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DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 


Hulda  was  the  Tomboy  of  the  Village. 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch. 


THE  LFBRtARY  OF  CHOICE  FICTIOU^ 

DAVID  OF 
JUNIPER  GULCH 

A  STORY  OF 

THE  PLACER  REGIONS  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


BY 


LILLIAN  SHUEY 

Author  of   "CALIFORNIA   STJNSHINK,"   «te. 


0?  TEDS 

7BRSITT 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 


ENTERED 

According  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  eighteen 
hundred  and  ninety  four,  by 

LAIRD  &  LEE 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 
at  Washington. 

(ALL  BIGHTS  RESERVED) 


[Da.id  of  Jumpw  Gulch] 


CONTENTS. 


I.  HULDA  AND  DAVID 9 

II.  THE  DOVE  AND  THE  Fox 26 

III.  A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY 35 

IV.  A  JOKE. TAKEN  PRACTICALLY 48 

V.  HARDUP  LIFE 57 

VI.  THE  TEACHERS'  EXAMINATION 71 

VII.  A  GREAT  BEREAVEMENT 86 

VIII.  DAVID'S  PLOTTING. 91 

IX.  CHERRY  VALLEY 99 

X.  THE  RIDE 113 

XL  Cis  BEVERLY 124 

XII.  DAVID'  s  BET 133 

XIII.  THE  «BATESES  AND  THE   DORMSES" 144 

XIV.  THE  PICNIC 158 

XV.  THE  LINE  FENCE 176 

XVI.  SUMMER  DAYS 195 

XVII.  A  SNOWY  RIDE 210 

XVIII.  MRS.  CORNMAN 228 

XIX.  DARK  DAYS 233 


0  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.     THE  INQUISITION 243 

XXI.     THE  SUMMER  BOARDER 260 

XXII.     A  SURE  PROOF 269 

XXIII.  THE  PICTURE 289 

XXIV.  "THE  CHILD  is  MINE!" , 302 

XXV.     ASSEMBLY  BILL  NO.  334 310 

XXVI.     THE  ASSEMBLY  ROOM 318 

XXVII.     THE  PICTURE  AGAIN  . . 339 

XXVIII.     DR.  WELCOME 349 

XXIX.     DAVID'S  LAWYER 365 

XXX.     FESTIVITIES  AT  THE  IMPERIAL 372 

XXXI.     WILLIE 381 

XXXII.     LILA 395 


CAST  OF  THE  STORY. 


MAX  ROYSE Mining  and  Real  Estate  Agent. 

MRS.  MINERVA  ELLIS Lodging-house  Keeper. 

SAM Chinaman,  servant  of  Mrs.  Ellis. 

MR.  JOSEPH  CORNMAN Pedagogue. 

HICKS Stage  Driver. 

DAVID  STRONG. 
HULDA  HARDY. 
MRS.    HARDY. 

GRANDPA  AND  GRANDMA  BEVERLY. 
Cis  BEVERLY. 

MILLIE  BATES School-girl. 

BUCK  DORMS School-boy. 

EDWARD  LA  GRANGE. 

AURELIA  HAWTHORNE  STALKER. 

THE  REV.  GRACEWAY  AND  WIFE. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  WOODS. 

THE  "BATESES"  AND  THE  "DORMSES" 

MRS.    MARKHAM. 

SATSUMA,  j  Servants  of 
DONOVAN,  |  Mrs.  Markham. 


(7) 


TJIIVBESITT 


DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

CHAPTER  I. 

HULDA  AND  DAVID. 

In  the  placer  regions  of  California  in  the  little  min- 
ing town  of  Hardup,  there  lived,  at  the  opening  of  my 
story, Mrs.  Thomas  Hardy  and  her  only  child,  Hulda, 
a  girl  of  eighteen  years. 

Hardup,  like  many  of  its  inhabitants  had  seen  bet- 
ter days,  as  many  of  its  mines  had  been  worked  out 
and  abandoned. 

The  paying  mines,  that  were  being  developed  at 
this  time,  were  owned  by  established  Hydraulic  com- 
panies; many  of  the  citizens  of  the  old  placer  town 
being  employed  as  laborers. 

The  people  of  the  county  were  finding  out  that 
fruit  could  be  cultivated  on  the  pleasant  hills,  and  in  the 
open  valleys,  and  that  the  country  was  desirable  to 
live  in,  as  well  as  to  cut  to  pieces  with  mining  ope- 
rations; and  so  Hardup  lived  on  dreaming  of  its  old 
prosperity,  and  hoping  for  better  times  when  they 
would  be  justified  in  painting  up  their  houses  and  re- 
pairing their  old  stores  and  churches. 

Hardup  lay  in  a  diversified  valley,  forest  covered 
mountains  rising  on  the  south  and  east,  and  lower 

9 


IO  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

brushy  hills  on  the  west.  The  children  of  the  town, 
knowing  nothing  to  fear  in  the  pine  woods,  were  wont 
to  troop  in  a  body  to  the  mountains  and  forests  on 
Saturday,  there  to  grow  brown  and  rugged,  chasing 
the  birds  and  rabbits,  and  seeking  fruits  and  flowers. 

In  the  springtime  were  the  sweet  pink  manzanita 
blossoms,  the  white  mountain  lilies,  the  mariposa 
lilies  and  the  rare  tiger  lilies;  these  last  always  in 
rocky  and  almost  inaccessible  places. 

In  summer  there  were  the  manzanita-berries,  elder- 
berries, June  apples,  wild  grapes,  goose-berries  and 
thimble-berries. 

Later  the  hazel-nuts  and  pine-nuts  lured  them  to 
longer  tramps  in  the  hot,  still  afternoons.  Always 
as  they  played  and  rambled,  they  sought  for  the 
nuggets  of  gold  that  they  never  found  but  they  were 
laying  up,  nevertheless,  treasures  of  health  and  in- 
spiration. 

The  Methodist  church  annually  sent  to  Hardup  a 
minister  who  lived  on  a  very  small  salary,  abetted  by 
much  self-supplied  hope  and  grace.  There  were  many 
vacant  houses  in  Hardup,  and  the  little  unpainted 
church  looked  old  and  worn,  with  but  fifteen  years  of 
service. 

Thomas  Hardy  had  come  to  Hardup  in  the  days 
of  its  prosperity,  and,  being  ignorant  of  the  ways  and 
workings  of  California  mines,  had  been  led  into 
speculations  till  he  had  lost  all  his  capital.  His  little 
cottage  home,  and  ten  acres  of  unimproved  land  back 
of  it,  not  being  considered  property  of  any  value  in 
those  days. 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  II 

One  morning  while  handling  a  heavy  stream  of 
water  in  a  great  rubber  hose,  the  pipe  slipped  from 
his  cold  hands,  and,  whipped  under  the  falling  bank 
by  the  whirling  monster,  he  was  hurried  to  his  death. 

He  had  been  overseeing  a  large  force  of  laborers, 
and  was  justly  beloved  by  them.  The  days  of  warm- 
hearted, impulsive  deeds  among  the  miners  had  not 
yet  departed,  and  a  week  after  the  funeral,  several 
men  in  rubber  boots  tramped  into  the  widow's  house, 
and  laid  a  little  book  on  Mrs.  Hardy's  table.  "It's 
in  the  bank  at  Forest  Grove,"  said  the  spokesman, 
"It's  a  thousand  dollars.  We  thought  we  owed  it  to 
him,  us  and  the  company,  ma'am,  for  he  was  the  best 
boss  we  ever  had." 

These  good  people  recognized  that  Mrs.  Hardy 
had  neither  the  courage  or  ability  to  support  herself. 
Gentle  in  manner,  and  of  the  most  refined  habits, she 
had  no  power  to  successfully  enter  the  money-making 
openings  for  women  at  that  time.  After  some  reflect- 
ion she  concluded  to  accept  the  gift.  She  knew,  as 
the  miners  well  understood,  that  all  her  husband's 
money  had  been  lost  in  starting  the  mines  there,  and 
it  was  generally  regarded  by  herself  and  others  as  an 
act  of  justice,  inspired  by  those  who  had  reaped  a 
great  harvest  from  his  hazardous  sowing. 

The  town  also  began  to  improve  at  that  time;  a 
schoolhouse  was  built  on  the  flat  below  the  widow's 
cottage,  and  the  school-teachers  sometimes  came  to 
board  wtih  Mrs.  Hardy.  With  the  plain  sewing  that 
came  in  abundance  to  her  hand,  Mrs.  Hardy  lived  a 
quiet  and  unambitious  life  devoted  to  the  memory  of 


12  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

her  husband,  to  her  church,  and  to  her  plain  and  un- 
worldly friends  of  the  Methodist  persuasion.  When 
Hulda  was  eighteen  she  knew  nothing  of  the  world 
except  as  she  saw  it  in  the  church  society  of  Hardup. 
She  was  a  plump,  fair  girl  in  perfect  health,  but 
with  undeveloped  tastes,  and  crude  ideas  of  the  world 
and  its  ways.  To  an  ordinary  observer  there  was 
nothing  very  interesting  about  the  girl.  Her  dark, 
fine  glossy  hair,  too  thick  to  be  becomingly  arranged, 
hung  in  a  long  braid  to  her  waist.  With  her  strong 
brown  arms,  she  milked  the  cow,  and  gathered  the 
fruit  from  the  young  orchard.  Her  most  attractive 
features  then,  were  her  perfectly  shaped  brown  eyes 
and  a  broad  white  forehead  hidden  by  her  drooping 
hair.  The  crimson  on  her  cheeks  and  lips  was  cov- 
ered by  a  brown  tint  of  tan  painted  there  by  Cali- 
fornia sunshine.  At  fourteen  years  of  age,  despite 
her  mother's  gentle  protestations,  she  was  known  as 
the  Tomboy  of  the  village.  She  led  the  other  girls 
far  up  the  deep  recesses  of  the  canons,  and  used  to 
plunge  on  alone  far  beyond  where  the  others  dared 
to  go.  There  was  no  place  so  dear  to  her  as  the 
rocky  hills,  and  she  littered  the  house  with  rocks, 
canes,  and  other  trophies  of  her  rambles.  She  trans- 
planted montain  vines  and  trees  into  the  yard,  and 
had  collected  specimens  of  every  kind  of  rock  and 
mineral  found  in  that  region.  At  sixteen  she  had 
ranked  as  the  first  scholar  in  the  village  school  so 
long,  that  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  remain  at 
home  and  work  in  the  garden.  Then  she  fell  to  read- 
ing till  she  had  read  every  book  in  the  village;  a 


HULDA   AND    DAVID  13 

motley  collection,  but  which  included,  however,  many 
historical  works  and  standard  novels.  She  had  been 
instructed  in  the  languages  according  to  the  various 
tastes  of  the  teachers,  who  had  boarded  there.  One 
had  started  her  in  French,  one  in  Spanish,  and  one 
more  practical,  gave  her  a  good  start  in  Latin. 

Hulda  well  knew  that  her  wild-wood  wanderings 
and  reading  habits  were  not  approved  of  by  the 
women  of  the  town.  She  was  a  "Tom-boy,"  a  "no- 
account,"  and  a  "good-for-nothing,"  because  she  could 
neither  crochet  nor  make  her  own  dresses;  the  knowl- 
edge of  orchard  trees  and  their  culture  not  being  sup- 
posed to  be,  at  that  time,  of  any  actual  value  for  a 
girl.  Mrs.  Hardy  had  no  power  to  make  Hulda 
otherwise  than  as  she  was.  So  Hulda  wore  her  sim- 
ple calico  dresses  to  church,  read,  dreamed,  and 
rambled  in  the  hills,  till  the  town  gossips  ceased  to 
think  of  her  as  a  possible  belle,  bride  and  housekeep- 
er of  Hardup. 

The  wandering  writing  school  teachers,  peculiar 
to  the  country  at  that  time,  had  made  an  excellent 
scribe  of  the  girl  to  the  envy  of  all  the  other  ruddy 
boys  and  girls,  and  from  these  writing  teachers  she 
imbibed  the  idea  that  she  might  earn  something  for 
herself  by  her  "rapid  and  smooth-flowing  pen."  She 
then  took  a  few  pupils,  and  a  strong  desire  to  become 
a  money-earner  began  to  fill  her  mind.  By  her 
eighteenth  birthday  she  realized  that  if  she  ever  had 
more  books  and  better  clothes  she  would  have  to  earn 
them  herself. 

Her  mother  kept  the  mon«y  she  had  received  from 


14  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  miners  intact  in  the  bank,  and  with  stubborn 
economy  had  refused  to  draw  anything  but  the  inter- 
est. It  had  never  occurred  to  her  frugal  mind  that 
the  education  of  her  daughter  might  be  of  far  greater 
value  to  her  than  the  money;  she  saw  in  that  capital 
alone  a  sure  protection  from  want.  The  money  was 
deposited  in  the  bank  at  Forest  Grove  six  miles  away, 
and  Hulda's  sole  experience  with  the  outside  world 
lay  in  her  trips  to  that  place  to  draw  the  interest  and 
make  their  frugal  purchases. 

In  stormy  weather  when  there  were  not  likely  to 
be  many  passengers,  Bill  Hicks,  the  stage  driver, 
frequently  called  for  her  to  insist  on  her  occupying  a 
seat  in  the  empty  old  stage  with  which  he  made  daily 
trips  between  the  two  towns.  Hulda  seldom  refused 
to  climb  in  the  roomy  stage,  that  had  seen  better 
days,  and  better  service  in  the  times  of  Hardup's 
prosperity.  The  harder  it  stormed  and  the  more  dan- 
gerous the  roads  were,  the  more  keenly  the  girl  would 
enjoy  her  ride,  and  the  more  Bill  Hicks  enjoyed  the 
company  of  his  perfectly  fearless  companion.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  trips  in  stormy  December,  that  she 
met  with  an  adventure  very  likely  to  happen  to  a  girl 
of  such  simple  habits  and  utterly  unsophisticated 
training.  The  stage  was  ready  to  start  on  its  even- 
ing trip  home  and  Hulda  was  sitting  in  one  corner 
with  her  feet  on  the  mail  bag,  when  Hicks  put  his 
head  in  the  door. 

"Hulda,"  he  said,  "I  s'pose  you'd  a  heap  rather 
ride  alone,  but  this  is  a  pretty  decent  looking  chap. 
Guess  you  won't  mind  him  after  you  ride  a  spell.  If 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  1 5 

it  warn't  raining  so  hard  I'd  make  the    old  cub   ride 
on  the  box.     Yes,  sir,  this  way,  sir." 

The  stranger  got  in  and  the  stage  rolled  out    of 
town. 

The  stranger  was  a  nervous,  restless  man  and  sat 
first  on  one  side  of  the  stage  and  then  on  the  other. 
He  frequently  buttoned  and  unbuttoned  his  overcoat 
and  adjusted  his  vest.  Hulda  watched  him  with  curi- 
osity for  she  had  never  seen  any  one  at  all  like  him. 
She  judged  he  was  not  a  minister,  he  was  too  healthy 
looking  and  there  were  too  many  newspapers  sticking 
out  of  his  pocket.  He  frequently  took  off  his  hat  and 
looked  into  it,  and  then  she  would  see  an  abundance 
of  disordered  hair.  In  the  meantime  he  had  taken 
an  inventory  of  the  dark-eyed  country  girl,  and  pres- 
ently he  said: 

"Have  you  any  objection  to  my  smoking  a  cigar, 
miss  ?" 

"Oh  no,  no,  sir,  not  at  all, "replied  Hulda  honestly. 
She  had  always  spoken  civilly  to  every  one  she  had 
met  on  those  trips. 

"Thank  you;  you  are  a  lady,"  he  said  with  em- 
phasis, lighting  a  mild  cigar.  "I  suppose  you  live 
about  here." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  "at  Hardup." 

"Ah,  indeed.  I  expect  to  stop  at  that  place  a  day 
or  two.  I  bought  a  mine  there  last  week.  Ran  up 
to  see  it.  I  suppose  you  know  all  about  mines,  ah — 
Miss—" 

"Hardy,"  said  Hulda,  simply. 

"Ah,  yes.  I  suppose  your  father  owns  exten- 
sively." 


l6  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"O,  no,  sir,  my  father  is  dead." 

"Well,  indeed."  He  threw  his  cigar  from  the  win- 
dow and  leaned  over  the  middle  seat  manifesting  new 
interest.  He  noticed  her  plain  dress. 

"Then  I  suppose  you  are  a  school  marm,  or  going 
to  be." 

Hulda  flushed  guiltily.  For  the  first  time  she  was 
ashamed  for  not  being  anything  in  particular.  She 
thought  of  her  writing  pupils. 

"No,  sir,  I  teach  writing,"  she  said,  "but  I  have 
only  a  few  pupils." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  continued  the  stranger,  getting 
more  patronizing  and  fatherly,  "that  is  a  pity.  If  you 
are  a  good  scribe,  you  could  do  much  better  than 
that  in  San  Francisco,  much  better.  I  know  girls 
there  who  are  earning  very  good  wages  writing  in 
offices."  He  produced  a  blank  card  from  his  vest 
pocket. 

"Now  just  for  curiosity  suppose  you  wrote  on  this 
card  with  this  pencil.  If  you  can  write  well,  it  is 
possible  I  might  aid  you  to  get  a  situation.  I  like 
to  see  girls  ambitious." 

The  stage  was  standing  still  just  then  for  Hicks  to 
deliver  a  parcel  at  a  farm-house,  so  she  took  the  card 
and  wrote  on  it  rapidly  one  of  her  writing  school 
copies.  "Live  a  life  of  truth,  sobriety  and  honor," 
and  returned  it  with  an  air  of  just  pride. 

"Beautiful,  beautiful,  Miss  Hardy,"  exclaimed  the 
stranger.  "There  would  be  no  trouble  about  your 
getting  a  position.  If  you  wish  to  come  to  the  city 
I  will  gladly  aid  you." 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  1 7 

"I  would  have  to  talk  to  mother,  answered  the 
girl. 

"O,  yes,  of  course.  Don't  do  anything  rashly. 
Here  is  my  card,  and  you  can  write  to  the  city  and 
get  references  in  regard  to  my  character  and  business 
You  will  find  it  all  right.  I  am  responsible  for  what 
I  say.  I  might  call  in  and  see  your  mother,  if  you 
wish.  O,  is  this  where  you  live?"  The  stage  stopped 
at  the  cottage  and  the  man  sat  back  in  silence  while 
Hicks  helped  Hulda  out  with  her  packages. 

Hulda  burst  in  on  her  mother  who  was  cooking 
supper  in  the  little  kitchen,  in  a  wild  state  of  excite- 
ment. 

"Mother,  mother,  I  have  had  an  adventure."  She 
dropped  her  packages  on  the  floor  while  she  took  her 
cloak  and  hat  from  her  warm  figure  and  flushing  face. 

"Well,  well,  shut  the  door  and  calm  yourself,"  ex- 
postulated the  mild  little  mother,  "and  tell  your  story 
straight  if  you  tell  it  at  all." 

Hulda  gave  her  the  card  and  they  read: 

Max  S.  Royse, 

Land  &  Mining  Agent, 

231  Pearl  St.,  S.  F.    Up-stairs. 

"But  he  is  a  perfect  stranger,"  she  protested  when 
Hulda  had  explained.  "We  must  not  depend  on  all 
he  says." 

"But  can't  we  find  out  about  him,  mother,"  in- 
sisted Hulda;  "it  is  such  a  nice  way  to  earn  money." 

"But  you  don't  know  anything  about  the  city, 
child.  It  is  a  dangerous  place  for  young  girls." 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    2 


l8  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"But  Cis  Beverly  is  there,  mother." 

"Yes,  I  know — well,  well,  set  the  table,  Hulda,  and 
we  will  talk  about  it  in  the  morning." 

The  next  day  Max  S.  Royse,  Land  &  Mining  Agent, 
called  and  made  the  way  apparently  smooth  before 
them.  He  was  a  married  man,  he  said,  and  Mrs. 
Royse  would  receive  the  girl  in  her  own  home  for  a  few 
days.  When  she  came  down  she  could  write  him  a 
note,  and  he  would  meet  her  at  the  wharf  and  take  her 
to  his  house.  Moreover  his  wife  was  a  member  of 
the  C.  St.  Church  and  they  could  write  to  that  church 
and  obtain  references  as  to  himself  and  wife.  It  was 
a  common  thing,  he  said,  for  him  to  get  positions  for 
girls,  and  he  only  charged  a  modest  compensation  for 
his  services.  He  was  very  business  like  and  took  his 
departure  promptly  with  a  manner  of  great  respect. 

Hulda  had  an  unsophisticated  mixture  of  prudence 
in  her  nature,  so  she  said: 

"Mother,  let's  not  tell  anyone,  and  if  I  succeed  it 
will  be  time  to  tell  the  neighbors." 

"One  thing,"  answered  her  mother,  "I  must  consult 
Brother  Graceway  and  find  out  about  these  people 
first." 

So  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and  went  to  the  Meth- 
odist parsonage  that  very  afternoon. 

The  minister  laid  down  his  Greek  lexicon,  and 
passed  his  hand  over  a  brow  dignified  by  many  years 
of  labor  in  the  ministry. 

After  giving  the  matter  a  moment's  study,  he  said 
the  business  might  be  a  little  irregular  but  he  could 
write  to  the  pastor  of  C,  St.  Church  and  get  all  the 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  IQ 

particulars.  The  answer  which  soon  came,  was  very 
satisfactory.  Mrs.  Royse  was  a  member  of  the  writer's 
church.  She  was  very  active  in  charities  and  church 
work.  Mr.  Royse  attended  church  occasionally.  They 
lived  well,  and  he  had  never  heard  anything  deroga- 
tory to  the  character  and  influence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Royse. 

So  Hulda  and  her  mother  sat  down  to  fix  over  a 
grey  dress  into  a  traveling  costume  and  talk  about 
the  new  prospects;  and  they  dwelt  with  pleasure  on 
the  fact  that  Hulda  could  now  find  Cis  Beverly,  and 
report  all  the  news  about  her. 

One  bright  day  they  took  a  walk  about  two  miles 
over  the  gravelly  hills  and  slopes  to  the  farm  of 
Grandpa  and  Grandma  Beverly. 

This  old  couple  had  come  to  California  many  years 
previously  with  a  married  son.  While  the  son  joined 
in  the  eager  search  for  gold  the  old  man  had  cleared 
a  little  land,  planted  trees  and  made  a  home.  Five 
years  the  son  and  his  wife  had  lain  in  the  church  bury- 
ing-ground  at  Hardup,  and  the  old  people  lived  in 
their  little  home,  driving  to  church  regularly  in  an  old 
buggy  that  was  weak  and  shaky  as  the  old  man  him- 
self; kindly  and  gentle-hearted  old  people,  loving 
their  fair-haired  granddaughter,  Cecelia,  and  training 
as  best  they  could  such  a  restive  child.  Every  one 
loved  Cis,  a  fair,  blue-eyed,  slender  girl,  who  used 
to  run  over  the  hills  to  town  like  a  young  deer,  and 
who  chose  her  associates  among  the  married  women 
of  the  town,  learning  of  them  to  sew  and  crochet, 
and  dress  herself  like  a  young  lady  of  society.  She 


• 


2O  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER   GULCH 

had  sweet,  amiable  ways  and  an  unoffending  presence, 
and  those  who  loved  and  petted  her  had  helped  to 
advance  her  very  early  out  of  her  girlhood  into  the 
tastes  and  desires  of  a  young  lady.  At  seventeen  Cis 
went  no  more  with  Hulda  on  her  rambles;  she  dis- 
carded her  boy  and  girl  friends,  dressed  her  hair 
high,  and  wore  her  dresses  long.  According  to  the 
prevailing  ideas  Cis  was  a  young  lady  of  marriageable 
age,  and  as  she  was  pretty  and  guileless  it  was  not 
surprising  that  she  had  a  lover,  and  one  so  well 
worthy  of  her  as  David  Strong.  David,  who  was 
teaming  on  the  mountain  grades,  saw  visions  of  her 
pretty  face  all  along  the  brushy  roads. 

He  bought  a  new  Sunday  suit,  quietly  established 
the  practice  of  walking  home  with  her  Sundays  after 
church,  and  Hulda  grew  accustomed  to  seeing  his 
sturdy  figure  on  the  hill  back  of  her  house  every  Sun- 
day at  sunset,  on  his  way  home  from  the  Beverly 
farm. 

As  David,  though  plain  in  his  attainments,  was  a 
man  of  honest  ability,  the  older  heads  of  the  commu- 
nity looked  upon  these  attentions  with  favor. 

But  some  giddy  young  matrons  of  Hardup  talked 
to  Cis  of  her  being  pretty  enough  to  make  a  brilliant 
match,  if  she  could  only  see  a  little  of  the  world. 

A  certain  Mrs.  Black  came  up  to  Hardup  on  a  va- 
cation from  her  flourishing  millinery  store  in  San 
Francisco,  and  being  a  dear  cousin  of  Mrs.  Vander- 
lip's,  the  postmaster's  wife,  she  was  cordially  received 
by  the  matrons  of  Hardup.  She  fell  in  love  with  Cis 
Beverly  at  once,  and  hoped  she  would  not  marry 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  21 

that  big  fellow,  who  sat  behind  her  in  the  church 
choir.  She  concluded  before  she  went  home,  that 
she  wanted  just  such  a  girl  as  Cis  to  learn  to  wait  in 
her  store.  Cis,  being  fresh  from  the  country,  would 
be  honest,  and  her  yellow  curls  tied  with  blue  rib- 
bons, would  attract  customers  from  the  street.  So 
she  went  herself  to  the  Beverly  home  and  persuaded 
the  old  people  to  let  Cis  go  with  her  to  the  city  for 
six  months.  She  would  take  her  to  live  with  her 
behind  the  shop,  she  said,  and  the,  girl  could  earn 
enough  to  buy  her  some  new  dresses. 

So  when  David  Strong  had  loitered  about  the  next 
Sunday,  waiting  for  Cis,  he  found  her  in  the  vestibule 
surrounded  by  girls  and  women  who  were  kissing  her 
good-by.  Some  were  giving  her  orders  for  hats  and 
dresses  and  some  were  begging  curls  for  keepsakes. 
Finally  seeing  David  waiting  lonely  and  perplexed, 
they  all  withdrew,  and  she  came  out  smiling  and 
radiant,  and  walked  with  him  over  the  brown  Novem- 
ber hills. 

David's  spirits  fell  when  she  told  him  of  her  plans, 
yet  he  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  oppose  her  going. 
He  had  made  no  confession  of  his  love,  and  in  her 
present  happy,  independent  mood  he  knew  he  would 
be  rejected  with  scorn,  if  he  told  her  then.  But  after 
all  he  reflected  that  six  months  would  not  belong,  and 
perhaps  a  little  work  would  reduce  her  spirits  and 
make  her  more  willing  to  think  of  him  seriously  as  her 
intended.  So  he  left  her  with  only  her  laughing 
promise  not  to  forget  him  and  a  promise  to  write  to 
him.  It  would  have  been  best  had  she  gone  away 


22  DAVID   OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

with  David's  kiss  on  her  lips,  and  David's  ring  on 
her  finger;  but  David's  heart  had  been  too  faint.  Cis 
was  but  a  child  in  mind  and  heart,  ready  to  follow 
any  strong  persuasive  leadership.  And  Mrs.  Black, 
who  was  a  woman  of  many  words,  speedily  forgot 
her  promises,  when  she  grew  tired  of  her  new  pet, 
and  let  her  look  after  herself,  as  did  the  other  shop 
girls. 

Cis  had  been  away  now  over  a  year,  and  David 
and  Hulda  used  to  speak  frequently  as  they  stood  in 
her  garden,  of  Cis  and  her  letters.  They  had  re- 
ceived three  letters  each,  and  David's  were  like 
Hulda's,  except  that  she  addressed  him  as  "dear 
friend,"  and  her  as  "dear  Hulda." 

At  first  she  said  that  she  was  homesick  and  would 
be  home  in  two  or  three  months.  Then  she  wrote 
that  she  was  delighted  with  the  city,  that  she  had 
been  to  C.  St.  church  and  was  making  new  friends. 
When  she  had  been  away  three  months  she  wrote 
that  Mrs.  Black  did  not  need  her  any  more,  but  that 
she  had  found  a  place  in  a  candy  store.  They  re- 
ceived no  more  letters,  but  they  went  occasionally  to 
Grandma  Beverly  to  read  the  letters  that  came  reg- 
ularly to  her.  She  wrote  that  Mrs.  Black  had  moved 
away,  and  that  she  lived  with  her  dear  friend  Sallie 
Graham,  who  kept  house  for  her  father  on  Mission 
Street.  Then  she  began  to  promise  that  she  would 
be  home  in  a  few  months,  but  though  her  grandmother 
had  looked  for  her  all  summer  and  winter,  yet  she 
had  not  come. 

"Hulda,"  David  had  said  one  August   evening,  as 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  23 

he  stood  mutilating  her  garden  fence  with  his  knife, 
"do  you  think  I  could  get  Cis  to  come  home  if  I  went 
down  after  her?  The  old  folks  are  worrying  a  great 
deal."  David  had  learned  to  place  a  great  deal  of 
confidence  in  this  plain,  slow-thinking  girl  during  the 
long  summer. 

"No,"  Hulda  had  answered,  thoughtfully  leaning 
over  the  gate  in  the  moonlight,  "if  you  go  and  insist 
on  her  coming  she  will  be  sure  not  to.  She  has  sent 
some  money  to  the  old 'folks  and  I  don't  think  she 
wants  to  come." 

"It  isn't  the  money,"  David  had  said.  Hulda  did 
not  know  what  it  was.  She  did  not  divine  his  great 
love  for  her  friend.  Had  she  been  a  more  worldly 
girl  she  might  have  been  a  better  confidant.  Had 
they  both  been  wiser  they  would  have  been  more 
anxious. 

Soon  after  David  went  away  on  a  prospecting  tour 
to  Nevada.  When  he  returned  he  did  not  come  im- 
mediately to  the  hou^e  as  he  sometimes  did. 

Hulda  and  her  mother  were  talking  of  these  things 
the  day  they  walked  over  to  the  Beverly  farm  on  the 
day  before  Hulda's  intended  departure. 

"We  will  not  tell  them  I  am  going  down,"  said 
Hulda.  "I  can't  afford  to  stay  a  day  if  I  don't  get  a 
position,  and  if  I  stay  I  will  find  Cis,  and  write  them 
all  about  her."  Hulda's  head  was  full  of  plans  to  find 
Cis,  and  persuade  her  to  return  to  her  old  home  for 
a  time. 

On  their  return  from  the  farm,  Hulda  dropped  be- 
hind her  mother,  for  she  saw,  down  the  road,  the 


24  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

figure  of  a  man  with  a  pick  and  shovel.  Mrs.  Hardy 
saw  it  too  for  she  called  back  as  she  hurried  on: 
"Ask  David  to  supper,  Hulda,  he  hasn't  been  in  for  a 
long  time." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  on  with  your  mother?"  said 
David  jokingly  as  he  came  up  to  her. 

"Because  you  need  scolding  for  staying  away  so 
long,  and  you've  got  to  come  to  supper,  mother  says. 
How  do  you  do  anyway,  Dave?" 

"As  well  as  I  deserve  to  be,  I  suppose.  Haven't 
had  any  luck,  as  usual.  What's  the  news  from  Cis 
Beverly?" 

"This  is  a  pretty  time  to  ask  about  Cis,"  cried 
Hulda,  "been  away  all  fall." 

"There's  just  this  about  it,  Hulda,"  said  David 
moodily,  "if  I  made  a  rich  strike  she'd  come  home 
soon  enough." 

"Oh,  hush,  David!     Such  talk!" 

"May  be  you  think  I  don't  know  anything  about 
her."  He  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 
"Well,  if  it's  between  you  and  me,  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it." 

"Why,  of  course  I'll  not  tell,"  cried  Hulda  with 
girlish  fervor. 

"It'sashort  story  and  I'll  tell  it  short,"  and  David 
shifted  his  pick  and  shovel  to  the  other  shoulder. 

"Well,  you  know  I  went  down  there  the  day  after 
I  was  talking  with  you.  I  got  to  the  city  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  I  went  straight  to  the 
candy  store,  for  I  had  the  street  and  number  you 
gave  me.  I  found  the  place  all  right,  and  the  first 
thing  I  saw  was  Cis  standing  behind  the  counter  busy 


HULDA    AND    DAVID  25 

about  something.  She  was  dressed  like  city  girls  only 
she  looked  pale  and  tired.  Pretty  soon  she  looked 
up  and  saw  me  coming  in.  Hulda,  she  turned  as 
white  as  this  apron  of  yours.  'Why,  Mr.  Strong,' 
says  she,  'when  did  you  come  down?'  I  was  sort  of 
dashed  at  her  coolness,  and  like  a  blundering  fool  I 
said,  'I've  just  come  down,  Cis,  and  I  want  you  to 
go  home  with  me. '  Then  she  looked  really  scared. 
*I  can't  come  with  you,  I  really  can't,  Mr.  Strong,' 
says  she,  'but  I'll  come  home  this  winter  sure.' 
Then  I  lost  my  head.  <I  suppose  you'll  be  up  on 
your  wedding  tour  with  some  of  these  city  fellows, ' 
said  I.  'What's  that  to  you  if  I  do,'  says  she.  And 
she  walked  straight  away  into  the  back  of  the  store. 
Pretty  soon  little  miss  came  up  to  me  and  wanted 
to  sell  me  something.  I  walked  out  of  that  shop  and 
came  home  the  next  day,  and  that's  all  the  good  I 
done.  If  I'd  a  kept  my  temper  like  a  gentleman,  I 
might  have  got  to  talk  to  her  any  way.  I  think  I'll 
give  her  up.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  take  a 
shine  to 'any  more  pretty  girls."  Hulda  made  no  re- 
ply. She  was  glad  David  was  so  sensibly  inclined. 

"Come  in  to  supper,  won't  you,  Dave?"  she  said 
at  the  gate.  "Mother  wants  you  to,  and  there's  no 
school  teacher  here  now." 

"Well,  yes,  thank  you, "responded  the  young  man. 
"I'll  go  over  to  the  cabin  first  and  wash  up,  and 
leave  these  traps."  But  he  did  not  learn  of  Hulda's 
intended  departure.  She  knew  that  he  would  oppose 
it  and  without  reason.  There  would  be  time  enough 
to  explain  everything  to  him  on  her  first  vacation 
home. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  DOVE  AND  THE  FOX. 

It  was  a  sunless  dingy  room  on  S —  St.,  San  Fran- 
cisco. Tattered  lace  curtains  were  tied  back  from  a 
dusty  window,  that  looked  out  against  a  gray  wall, 
leaving  only  at  the  top  a  little  glimpse  of  smoking 
chimneys.  The  carpet  and  furniture  of  the  room 
had  once  been  elegant,  but  now  wore  an  air  of  van- 
ished respectability  common  to  lodging  houses  from 
which  the  higher  tides  of  opulence  has  ebbed  away. 

On  the  bed  lay  a  pretty,  pale  little  woman  with  a 
restless  eager  look  on  her  face,  which  was  just  child- 
ish enough  to  show  weakness,  yet  womanly  enough  to 
reveal  its  lines  of  suffering.  She  was  fully  dressed, 
but  her  fair  hair  was  tumbled  about  her  shoulders. 
She  rested  on  her  elbow  and  was  looking  into  the 
face  of  a  babe,  that  lay  sleeping  beside  her.  Then 
she  bent  down  and  kissed  the  little  face  with  an  air  of 
timidity,  and,  when  a  quick  step  came  to  the  door, 
she  threw  a  cover  over  the  babe,  and  sat  up  flushing 
guiltily. 

A  large,  commanding  looking  woman  entered  the 
room,  closed  the  door  with  a  bang  behind  her,  and 
placed  a  tray  of  food  on  the  bare  marble-topped 
table  with  a  cold  click. 

26 


THE    DOVE    AND    THE    FOX  27 

"There,  there"  she  said  with  an  air  of  having 
authority  in  the  case,  "what  are  you  doing  now,  Cis 
Beverly?  Fussing  over  that  baby  again.  Really  you 
ought  not  to  show  such  sentiment.  Max  hasn't  put  in 
an  appearance  yet,  and  there's  no  telling,  may  be 
he  won't  come  at  all."  The  girl  sank  down  on  the 
bed  with  a  moan  and  a  burst  of  tears.  With  a  sigh 
and  a  touch  of  softness  in  her  manner,  the  woman 
dusted  the  table,  uncovered  the  tray,  and  poured  out 
a  cup  of  hot  tea  from  a  little  brown  jug. 

She  was  a  finely-formed,  well-dressed  woman  with 
a  very  fair  complexion,  arid  fine  white  hands.  Her 
face,  had  it  been  more  refined  in  expression,  would 
have  been  handsome.  Her  poise  was  queenly,  and 
her  movements  exceedingly  graceful.  She  proceeded 
to  draw  the  curtain,  lit  the  gas,  and  then  went  and 
laid  her  hand  on  the  girl  with  a  manner  of  tolerance. 

"Now,  Cis,  do  cheer  up,  and  eat  your  supper.  He 
might  be  here  to-night,  and  you  want  to  be  well  if 
he  does  come." 

The  girl  sat  up  and  smiled  a  little. 

"Then  we  are  going  to  be  married  right  off,  you 
know,  Mrs.  Ellis,  and  go  away  somewhere  to  the 
country." 

Mrs.  Ellis  laughed  musically;  one  might  not  under- 
stand what  she  meant  by  such  a  laugh. 

"And  do  you  really  believe  all  that  stuff,  little 
girl?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  He  loves  me,  and  I  love  my 
baby." 

Mrs.  Ellis  silently  watched  the  girl  sip  her  tea,  and 


28  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

eat  a  little  of  her  toast.  She  had  more  sympathy  for 
her  than  she  wished  to  show;  and  she  was  consider- 
ing if  she  might  dare  to  make  a  few  plain  statements 
without  having  a  case  of  hysteria  on  her  hands.  After 
a  while  she  said:  "Cis,  why  not  give  the  baby  to 
me?  I  will  bring  it  up,  and  take  good  care  of  it. 
Sometime  you  can  come  and  get  her  and  tell  people 
you  have  adopted  a  child.  See  here,  Cis,"  and  she 
took  the  girl's  little  drooping  hand  in  her  warm,  firm 
fingers,  "don't  you  know  that  the  baby  will  be  in  the 
way?  How  can  he  marry  you  and  take  you  among 
his  friends  with  a  baby  in  your  arms?  Nobody  would 
speak  to  you.  Now  you  must  choose  between 
Max  and  the  baby,  and  that  quick  too,  for  he  will  be 
here  to-night.  Now  do  be  sensible  for  once." 

But  the  blue  eyes  closed,  the  fair  head  drooped  on 
the  pillow,  and  the  white  face  grew  whiter.  The  girl 
did  not  faint,  but  she  drew  her  hands  up  to  her  throat, 
and  was  helplessly  silent.  The  woman  folded  the 
blankets  around  the  little  figure,  which  shivered 
slightly  as  she  touched  it.  She  replaced  the  dishes 
on  the  tray  and  left  the  room.  Leaving  the  tray  on 
the  stand  in  the  hall,  she  went  on  to  her  own  apart- 
ments in  the  back  end  of  the  building.  The  hall  was 
neat  and  bright,  and  a  pleasant  contrast  to  the  dingy 
room  she  had  left.  A  stairway  at  the  end  led  to  a 
hall  below  of  similar  size,  but  which  was  more  hand- 
somely furnished  and  carpeted.  In  the  lower  hall 
swung  a  tassel,  which  being  pulled,  rang  a  bell  above. 
Mrs.  Ellis  had  been  proprietor  of  these  two  halls  with 
their  forty  rooms  for  many  years. 


THE    DOVE    AND    THE    FOX  2Q 

The  lower  hall  with  its  more  fresh  and  cheerful 
rooms,  she  allotted  to  her  transient  roomers,  who 
surged  in  and  out  with  the  travel  of  the  city.  But 
the  tide,  as  it  ebbed  and  flowed,  left  a  scum  in  the 
upper  story  of  which  the  transient  custom  neither 
knew  nor  asked. 

Mrs.  Ellis  entered  a  little  hall  that  led  to  her 
own  room,  stopped  and  called  sharply: 

"Sam." 

A  door  from  one  of  the  dark  inner  rooms  opened, 
and  a  very  neat,  civil  looking  Chinaman  appeared. 
Sam  had  been  in  her  employ  for  several  years.  With 
the  assistance  of  some  other  Chinaman,  who  was 
frequently  changed,  he  took  entire  care  of  the  rooms, 
besides  being  the  cook  and  confidential  servant  of  his 
mistress.  He  was  always  clean,  wide  awake,  and 
ready  for  any  service.  He  never  betrayed  a  confi- 
dence, or  ordinarily  volunteered  remarks.  He  served 
meals  to  his  mistress  in  her  little  sitting-room  with 
neatness  and  even  elegance,  He  petitioned  an  in- 
crease of  wages  once  a  year,  which  was  always 
granted.  He  was  indispensable  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  and  knew  it. 

"Sam,"  said  the  mistress,  "you  may  take  that  waiter 
down  to  the  restaurant,  and  tell  them  not  to  send  up 
any  breakfast  unless  I  order.  And,  Sam,  about  half 
past  seven  I  want  a  nice  supper  for  two,  coffee,  an 
omelet,  oysters,  and  go  out  and  get  some  roses." 

Mrs.  Ellis  then  went  on   to    her    own   apartment. 
Her  sitting-room  was  furnished  with  comfortable  large 
chairs,  a  rich,  bright  carpet,  and  heavy  rugs.   A  piano 


30  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

loaded  with  pictorial  papers  and  music  stood  in  a  cor- 
ner. Heavy  red  curtains  covered  the  windows,  and 
a  large  cat  slept  on  a  rug  in  the  warmth  of  a  cheerful 
coal  fire  in  the  grate.  In  a  corner  a  little  fluffy,  yel- 
low ball  swung  in  a  gilded  cage.  Mrs.  Ellis  brought 
from  a  closet  a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  tray  of  dainty 
glasses.  She  retired  to  her  bed-room  to  freshen  her 
toilet,  which  was  done  by  adding  powder  to  her  face 
and,  draping  several  yards  of  Spanish  lace  about  her 
neck.  Returning,  she  stroked  the  cat  which  purred 
loudly  under  her  soft  touch.  Some  one  tapped  lightly 
on  her  door,  and  she  opened  it  cautiously. 

"Max,  is  it  you?" 

"Yes,  Minerva,  it's  me.  Glad  to  see  me,  I'll  war- 
rant." 

Her  caller  threw  his  hat  and  overcoat  on  to  the 
piano,  and  rudely  attempted  to  kiss  her  cheek.  She 
repelled  him  by  a  push  that  threw  him  stumbling  into 
a  chair. 

"Now  don't  be  a  -fool,  Max  Royse.  You  haven't 
seen  me  for  a  month,  you  ought  to  show  a  little  re- 
spect. Sit  down." 

He  flung  himself  onto  the  lounge,  and  ran  his  fin- 
gers through  his  dark  auburn  curls. 

"There  now,"  he  said,  "don't  put  on  your  company 
airs  to  a  good  friend  like  me.  You  know  you' re  glad 
to  see  me." 

"Yes,  I  have  tolerated  you  for  nearly  three  years 
now." 

"Yes,  and  I've  just  got  that  drunken  husband  of 
yours  shanghied  out  the  harbor,  and  bound  north 
after  whales.  Nice  job,  that." 


THE    DOVE    AND    THE    FOX  31 

"Well,  haven't  I  paid  you,"  she  retorted,  "helped 
you  out  of  all  sorts  of  scrapes?  In  fact  your  miseries 
have  become  my  chief  recreation!" 

He  laughed  and  took  the  glass  of  wine  she  had 
poured  for  him. 

"Don't  allude  to  my  past  miseries,  please,  fair  one, 
I  am  a  reformed  man,  don't  you  think  I  am  pretty 
fair,  now,  honestly?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  are  as  good  as  the  average," 
she  said,  locking  the  door  softly  in  answer  to  a  knock, 
and  lowering  her  voice.  "But  I  think  this  last  affair 
is  a  little  too  bad.  She's  as  innocent  as  a  dove.  Bad 
as  I  am,  I  can't  bear  to  tell  her  that  you  can't 
marry  her. 

Royse  slowly  raised  himself  from  the  pillow  and  sat 
upright,  his  pale  blue  eyes  wide  open. 

"Poor  little  girl!"  he  muttered.  "How  is  she  any 
way?  I'd  marry  her  in  a  minute  if  1  could.  I  didn't 
mean  to  harm  her.  I  wish  I'd  never  reformed,  and 
married  that  golden  goddess  up  on  California  Street. 
But  I've  done  well  by  the  poor  little  girl.  I  left  you 
money  enough  for  everything,  didn't  I?  Besides  the 
handsome  sum  I  have  to  give  you,  for  managing  the 
thing.  How  does  she  feel  about  the  child?" 

"Feel?  She  is  perfectly  unmanageable.  I  tried 
to  persuade  her  to  give  it  to  me,  but  she  almost 
fainted  away." 

"Now  see  here,  Minerva,"  with  a  show  of  indigna- 
tion, "I  told  you  to  go  slow  with  her.  Don't  be  rude. 
I  want  her  well  treated.  I  intend  to  keep  her  like  a 
lady  as  long  as  stocks  are  up." 


32  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

She  laughed  her  silvery  laugh  again  this  time. 

"Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  and  I  hope  you  will, 
Max.  I  believe  I  pity  the  innocent  little  thing." 

He  laughed  derisively.  "Pity  her,  do  you?  That 
must  be  a  new  disease.  Have  you  a  physician?" 

"You're  an  antidote  for  anything  good,  Max,"  she 
retorted,  "but  seriously  what  are  you  going  to  give  me 
for  adopting  the  baby?" 

He  rose  and  walked  around  the  room  adjusting  his 
disordered  hair  as  he  walked.  He  poked  his  finger 
at  the  startled  canary,  then  rubbed  his  hands  at  the 
grate.  It  was  only  a  question  of  how  little  he  dared 
to  offer  her.  He  knew  he  could  trust  her  to  do  the 
work.  Finally  he  said  reflectively. 

"Well,  you  know  I  might  manage  it  myself,  but  I 
will  give  you  a  hundred.  You  know  you  have  drained 
me  pretty  well  already,  and,  remember,  old  Ellis  is 
a  sailor." 

She  poured  out  his  fourth  glass  of  wine.  "I  want 
two  hundred,  Max."  He  drank  the  wine,  and  took 
a  step  toward  her,  rudely  attempting  to  encircle  her 
waist  with  his  arm.  She  flung  him  away  contempt- 
uously, 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  said,  "have  things  all  ready 
at  twelve  o'clock  to-night,  and  I  will  be  here  with  a 
hack  for  your  patient.  By  the  way,  Minerva,  peer- 
less one,  don't  I  smell  oysters?" 

"Of  course.  Now  go  and  see  the  poor  girl  while  I 
fix  the  table,  Wait,  -you  may  take  her  a  cup  of 
coffee."  She  went  into  the  little  kitchen  adjoining 
and  brought  a  steaming  cup  of  odorous  coffee,  in  a 
delicate  china  cup  on  a  handsome  little  tea-tray. 


THE    DOVE    AND   THE    FOX  33 

"That's  a  darling,  I  knew  you  would  treat  her 
well,"  he  said,  as  he  started  out  with  the  tray. 

"Here,  take  the  key,  you  blundering  Irishman!  It's 
room  thirteen,  and  be  back  in  ten  minutes. 

"Ugh!"  she  said  as  she  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
I  wonder  if  that  old  fool  thinks  I  have  treated  her  to 
Haviland  China  and  Mocha  coffee  every  day." 

When  he  returned  she  looked  up  anxiously  from 
the  paper  she  was  reading.  "What  do  you  think, 
Max?" 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said,  "she's  as  lively  as  the  girl 
of  the  period  used  to  be.  She  came  to  terms  very 
quick.  She'll  go  with  me  and  leave  the  child  with 
you.  I  made  her  think  that  would  be  all  right,  and 
that  she  wasn't  strong  enough  to  take  care  of  it  now." 

She  had  spread  a  table  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
and  the  odors  of  coffee  and  oysters  filled  the  air.  He 
seated  himself  opposite  to  her  at  the  table,  placed  a 
rosebud  in  his  button-hole,  and  unfolded  a  snowy 
napkin. 

"You're  the  finest  woman  in  the  world,  Mrs,  Ellis. 
Think  of  Mrs.  Royse  being  so  thoughtful  of  me  three 
hours  after  dinner.  O,  no,  she's  too  emminently 
respectable  for  that."  But  he  ate  hastily  and  rose 
from  the  table. 

"Now,  my  peerless,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  have 
an  engagement  at  nine  o'clock-" 

"What,  going  home?" 

"No,  I — I — have  to  meet  a  young  lady." 

"Save  us  alive,  Max,  another  girl?     O  horrors!" 

"Yes,  a  girl,  but  a   rather   green    one   this    time, 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    3 


34  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Fresh  from  the  country.     She's  cut  out  to  be    smart 
though,  if  she  did  trust  herself  to  me." 

"Oh,  Max,  let  me  beg  of  you,  don't  take  in  any  more 
victims."  Max  adjusted  his  hat,  buttoned  up  his 
overcoat,  and  began  to  draw  on  his  gloves.  He 
looked  quite  gentlemanly  indeed. 

"Don't  get  in  a  fret,  Minerva,  keep  cool.  She's 
not  to  be  a  victim.  It's  a  case  of  pure  benevolence." 

"Pshaw!" 

"Fact.  She's  coming  to  write  in  lawyer  Grey's 
office.  If  she's  smart  enough  to  keep  out  of  trouble, 
and  stand  off  all  my  foolishness,  I'll  introduce  her  to 
my  wife  and  give  her  a  show  in  the  world.  O,  I'm 
not  altogether  bad,  Mrs.  Ellis.  I  want  to  get  a  room 
for  her  down  stairs.  She's  coming  in  on  the  nine 
o'clock  boat." 

"Certainly,  she  can  have  a  room." 

He  took  her  hand  and  lifted  it  to  his  lips  in  mock 
courtesy,  but  she  gave  him  a  push  and  he  stumbled 
into  the  hall.  She  closed  and  locked  the  door  upon 
him. 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day,  Hulda  Hardy  had 
dragged  her  valise  out  into  a  bend  in  the  road,  and 
waited  for  the  stage.  She  knew  that  if  the  stage  was 
seen  to  stop  at  her  house,  half  a  dozen  neighbors 
would  be  in  before  noon,  to  ask  if  Hulda  had  gone  to 
Forest  Grove,  and  regret  that  they  had  not  known  of 
it  to  have  some  errands  done. 

"Going  to  stay  a  week?"  said  Hicks,  as  he  put  in 
her  valise. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl  cheerily,  "a  week  or  a  month, 
just  as  you  like." 

"Well,  then,  if  you'll  pull  around  about  to-morrow 
night,  I'll  take  you  to  the  dance." 

"Why,  Mr.  Hicks,  you  know  I  can't  dance  a  step." 

"I'll  risk  that  part  of  it,"  he  said  as  he  shut  the 
door,  for  it  was  beginning  to  rain,  and  Hulda  was 
compelled  to  ride  inside  to  save  her  dress. 

Hicks  was  full  of  kindness  and  officiousness  for  her 
at  the  depot  at  Forest  Grove.  He  boarded  the  train 
with  her  to  find  her  a  good  seat,  and  staid  with  her 
until  the  train  began  to  move,  but  through  it  all,  he 
asked  her  no  questions.  He  supposed,  probably,  that 
she  was  going  to  Sacramento. 


36  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

As  soon  as  Hulda  looked  about  in  the  car,  the  first 
pangs  of  loneliness  and  timidity  came.  The  people 
about  her  were  unlike  the  people  of  Hardup  in  dress 
and  appearance. 

She  was  on  an  overland  train,  and  the  passengers 
were  merchants,  tourists,  drummers,  fashionably 
dressed  women,  and  tired,  spoiled  children.  They 
took  no  notice  whatever  of  her,  which  was,  in  itself, 
a  novel  circumstance  to  the  girl. 

At  a  Sacramento  station  she  waited  alone,  ate  a 
lunch  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  took  adventurous 
little  trips  out  to  look  at  the  broad  yellow  river,  the 
steamers,  scows  and  flat  boats,  and  the  weather- 
beaten  town  across  the  water. 

Her  loneliness  increased,  and  when  the  people  be- 
gan to  arrive  for  the  train  she  expected  to  take,  she 
watched  them  eagerly,  hoping  to  see  some  one  she 
had  met  at  Hardup.  Many  of  the  Hardup  people 
had  moved  to  Sacramento. 

A  pleasant-faced  woman,  with  pretty  gray  curls 
peeping  out  from  her  bonnet,  and  around  her  neck 
and  forehead,  came  and  sat  down  by  her,  dropping 
her  hand-bag  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"If  I  only  dared  to  speak  to  her,"  thought  the  girl, 
"she  seems  so  nice." 

But  the  woman  presently  went  and  bought  her 
ticket,  and  when  she  came  back  she  smiled  upon 
Hulda. 

"Are  you  going  on  this  train,  young  lady?" 

"I  am,"  replied  the  girl  with  a  flush  of  color. 

"Then  will  you  help  me  carry  my  hand-bag?  I  am 
used  to  carrying  it  and  you  look  strong." 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  37 

"Indeed,  I  would  be  very  glad  to  carry  it,  and  go 
with  you,"  cried  the  delighted  girl.  "I  have  never 
traveled  before,  and  I  am  lonely." 

"Indeed!  tell  me  where  you  are  from." 

The  woman  threw  off  her  outer  wrap  and  veil  as 
she  sat  down.  She  had  a  pretty,  trim  form,  was 
richly  dressed,  and  her  face,  with  smiling  blue  eyes, 
was  so  young  and  sweet  looking,  that  Hulda  saw  at 
once  that  her  hair  must  be  prematurely  gray. 

Before  the  train  had  reached  Vallejo,  where  they 
were  to  take  a  steamer  to  San  Francisco,  these  two 
travelers  had  become  quite  well  informed  as  to  each 
other's  identity. 

Hulda  learned  that  her  companion  lived  in  Sacra- 
mento, owned  houses  there,  and  made  frequent  trips 
to  San  Francisco  where  she  owned  more  houses;  that 
she  had  come  to  the  state  at  some  indefinite  time,  she 
referred  to,  as  the  early  days. 

"And  my  gray  hairs,"  said  she,  pointing  to  her  curls, 
"came  to  me  then,  from  my  grief  and  anxiety  over 
the  loss  of  my  first  husband  and  child.  And  now  I  am 
a  widow  again,  but  not  widowed  as  I  was  then,  for  I 
was  all  alone  in  the  world. " 

When  they  went  into  the  steamer  she  took  the 
country  girl  about  the  boat  and  told  her  many  things 
about  it;  then  she  took  her  into  the  ladies'  cabin  be- 
low, and  sat  down  to  talk  quietly  with  her,  as  she 
had  observed  that  the  country  girl  was  as  ignorant, 
as  she  was  interesting  and  inexperienced. 

She  deftly  drew  from  her,  her  entire  history,  and 
the  object  and  circumstances  of  the  trip.  She  knew 


38  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

that  it  was  not  quite  proper  for  the  girl  to  go  into 
the  charge  of  a  strange  man,  in  a  strange  city,  and 
told  her  so. 

But  Hulda  was  quite  sure  that  everything  was  all 
right.  However,  the  elder  woman  gently  persisted 
in  giving  her  considerable  good  advice. 

'  "Leave  your  baggage  on  the  wharf,  by  all  means, 
Miss  Hardy,"  she  said  in  counclusion,  "and  if  this 
man  does  not  get  you  the  place  he  promises,  go  di- 
rectly home.  It  is  very  hard  for  a  girl  to  get  employ- 
ment in  San  Francisco." 

As  the  boat  neared  the  city  the  two  women  went 
up-stairs.  The  wind  staggered  them  as  they  came 
on  deck,  but  the  girl  cried  out  with  an  exclamation 
of  surprise  and  delight;  the  scene  before  them  was 
delighting  many  who  had  been  familiar  with  it  for 
years.  Line  upon  line,  row  upon  row  of  twinkling 
lights  set  in  darkness.  A  row  of  many  colored  lights 
marked  the  wharf  which  they  were  fast  approaching, 
and  avenues  of  light  ran  in  all  directions  till  they 
seemed*  to  mingle  with  the  stars.  While  the  boat 
was  landing,  Hulda's  heart  beat  rapidly,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  fear  came  over  her,  when  she  saw  the  travel- 
ers hurrying  off  with  their  valises  and  bundles.  She 
then  began  to  realize  the  value  of  her  new  friend, 
and  did  not  want  to  part  from  her.  She  clung  nerv- 
ously to  her  arm,  as  they  were  pressed  onto  the 
wharf  with  the  crowd. 

"Ah,"  said  a  modulated  voice,  "here  you  are!  I 
was  afraid  you  wouldn't  come.  But  you  have  a 
friend  with  you." 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  39 

Max  Royse,  Land  and  Mining  Agent,  clothed  in 
the  attire  of  a  gentleman,  bowed  deferentially  to  the 
elder  woman  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  girl.  Hul- 
da's  companion  seemed  to  be  favorably  impressed 
with  his  appearance.  She  pressed  the  girl's  hand 
reassuringly  and  turned  to  her  own  friends,  who  were 
crowding  about  her.  But  after  she  had  entered  a 
car  with  her  friends  and  started  away,  she  wished 
that  she  had  insisted  on  taking  the  girl  and  keeping 
her  with  her  for  one  night.  She  regretted  her  thought- 
lessness, all  the  way  to  the  house  of  her  friends,  and 
woke  up  several  times  in  the  night,  to  think  restlessly 
about  the  girl. 

Max  Royse  drew  the  girl's  arm  quickly  within  his, 
and  led  her  through  the  crowd  to  a  hack,  and  took 
her  hand  to  assist  her  into  it.  But  Hulda  drew  back. 

"I  would  rather  not  go  in  a  carriage,"  she  said, 
"it  is  too  expensive  for  me.  Could  we  not  go  in  a 
street  car?" 

"This  is  all  right,"  insisted  Royse,  "get  in.  This 
is  my  carriage." 

She  entered  hesitatingly.  Royse  followed,  and  the 
carriage  started. 

"Poor  girl,  you  look  tired,"  he  said,  sitting  down 
beside  her  and  looking  impertinently  into  her  face. 

Hulda  at  once  moved  into  her  corner,  a  little  dis- 
turbed by  such  paternal  manners. 

"No,  thank  you,  I  am  not  at  all  tired,"  she  replied 
quickly. 

He  then  explained  to  her  that  his  wife  was  un- 
avoidably away  from  home  that  night,  and  he  had 


40  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

arranged  for  a  room  for  her  at  the  lodging-house  of  a 
friend. 

"She  is  very  much  of  a  lady,"  he  continued,  "and 
I  think  you  will  like  to  stay  there.  When  you  get 
acquainted  you  can  go  any  where  you  like.  Will 
you  be  afraid  to  stay  alone?" 

"O,  no,"  returned  Hulda,  "but  I  am  sorry  your 
wife  is  away." 

Here  he  removed  his  new  beaver  hat,  rubbed  its 
shining  surface  carefully,  and  replaced  it. 

Hulda  was  absorbed  in  the  glimpses  of  the  street 
lights  from  the  carriage  window,  and  her  shawl  had 
fallen  from  her  shoulders. 

"Pardon  me."  Her  companion  reached  about  her 
and  replaced  her  shawl.  The  girl  faced  him  with  a 
startled  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  civilly,  drawing  back,  "I  did  not 
mean  to  offend  you."  She  flushed  scarlet. 

"I  am  not  used  to  receiving  such  attentions  from 
gentlemen." 

"Pardon  me,  then,  but  I  feared  you  would  be  cold." 
Hulda  turned  to  the  window  with  a  feeling   of  an- 
noyance and  strange  fear. 

"But  I  must  not  be  foolish,"  she  thought,  "the 
ways  of  the  city  men  will  be  new  to  me,  and  I  must 
pretend  not  to  notice." 

Her  bewilderment  increased  when  the  carnage 
stopped,  and  she  stepped  out  under  a  row  of  gas 
lights,  and  the  noise  of  a  theater  orchestra  rolled 
from  the  grates  under  her  feet.  Did  his  friend  live 
there? 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  41 

But  she  was  hurried  up  a  narrow  stairway  in  the 
bright  and  pretty  lower  hall  of  Mrs.  Ellis'  lodging 
establishment. 

Royse  pulled  the  tassel,  and  Hulda  looked  about 
her,  collecting  her  thoughts.  Presently  Mrs.  Ellis 
appeared  above  bending  over  the  railing. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?  I'll  be  down  in  a  minute. 
Sam,  Sam,  the  keys." 

Soon  she  came  trailing  down  the  stairs,  her  keys 
rattling  in  her  white  ringers,  and  her  scrutinizing  eyes 
on  Hulda. 

"Your  friend  came  then,  Mr.  Royse,"  she  said,  "I 
am  glad  to  see  her.  This  way  please." 

They  followed  her  through  a  little  hall  into  a  large, 
and  in  the  eyes  of  the  country  girl,  handsomely  fur- 
nished room. 

Mrs.  Ellis  turned  up  the  gas,  which  was  already  lit. 

"This  is  Miss  Hardy,"  said  Royse,  "I  will  leave 
her  in  your  charge  to-night." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis,  taking  a  complete  in- 
ventory of  the  girl  in  one  glance.  "Miss  Hardy, 
here  is  your  key,  and  if  you  need  anything,  come  up 
to  my  room." 

Then  she  went  out  swiftly,  closing  the  door  after 
her.  Max  sat  down  on  the  lounge. 

"Well,  take  off  your  things,  little  girl,  and  rest 
yourself." 

Now  Hulda  was  not  little,  and  she  knew  it,  but 
she  tried  to  conceal  her  annoyance,  as  she  removed 
her  hat  and  shawl.  She  twisted  up  her  hair,  which 
had  escaped  from  its  usual  confinement,  and  remained 


42  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

standing.  She  wondered  why  he  did  not  give  her 
her  directions  and  go,  and  why  he  sat  there  looking 
so  stupid.  So  she  said: 

"What  am  I  to  do  to-morrow,  and  where  is  the 
office  where  I  am  to  work?" 

"That's  all  right,  dear,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that 
to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Come  and  sit  down  here  and 
rest."  He  reached  out  and  took  hold  of  her  dress. 
But  she  pulled  herself  away,  and  sat  down  in  a  chair, 
her  heart  beginning  to  beat  strangely.  He  was 
changing  every  moment,  and  she  watched  him  with 
amazement. 

"Well  I  guess  I'd  better  go."  He  rose  and  took 
several  turns  about  the  room;  suddenly  he  seized  a 
chair  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"Now  don't  look  so  frightened, "he  said  soothingly, 
"I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you.  Do  you  think  I  would 
harm  you,  child?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep  her 
composure,  and  brushing  his  hand  from  her  arm, 
"but  I  do  not  quite  understand  your  manners." 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Hardy,"  he  said  gently,  and 
moving  a  little  away,  "I  do  not  mean  offense.  You 
know  I  take  a  great  interest  in  you — a  fatherly  in- 
terest." 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl  growing  bolder,  "but  I  had 
much  rather  be  alone;  I  am  tired." 

"Oh,  poor  girl,"  he  leaned  forward  and  took  hold 
of  her  arm. 

Hulda  sprang  away  towards  the  door,  thoroughly 
alarmed  now.  Was  he  drunk  or  insane?  How  could 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  43 

she  get  away  without  making  a  scene?  Royse  sat 
back  in  his  chair  and  laughed. 

"Why,  girl,  you'd  make  a  fine  actress.  I  believe 
I'll  change  your  trade  and  put  you  on  the  stage, 
What  makes  you  so  excitable,  any  way?  Come  and 
sit  down." 

But  Hulda  stood  by  the  door  trembling. 

"But  your  actions  are  so  strange,"  she  ventured  to 
say. 

"O,  pshaw!  Sit  down  and  be  reasonable.  I  will 
let  you  alone.  I  didn't  know  I  was  annoying  you." 

She  sat  down  a  little  reassured.  Was  not  the  man 
recommended  to  her  by  a  minister?  It  could  not  be 
possible  that  he  meant  harm.  "He  is  amusing  him- 
self," she  thought,  "I  will  be  calm."  He  reached  for 
his  hat  and  began  to  smooth  it  down. 

"And  are  you  going  to  see  my  wife  to-morrow?" 

"I  expect  to,  Mr.  Royse." 

"Well,  then,  if  you  will  forgive  me  for  my  rude  con- 
duct, I  will  go." 

She  smiled.  He  suddenly  rose,  came  and  bent 
over  her  with  his  arm  around  her. 

"Well,  then,  kiss  me  good-night." 

The  thoroughly  frightened  girl  sprang  away  with  a 
scream,  and  ran  to  the  door.  She  was  sure  then 
that  the  man  was  drunk. 

"Don't  go  out,"  he  cried,  "I  won't  touch  you." 

She  stood  facing  him,  her  hand  on  the  door  knob, 
while  he  sat  down  on  the  lounge  and  looked  at  her 
with  half  closed  eyes.  She  remembered  the  advice 
of  the  kind  lady  on  the  boat,  and  her  mind  began  to 


44  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

fill  with  undefined  terrors.  He  had  lost  all  resem- 
blance to  the  man  she  had  supposed  him  to  be;  and 
yet  in  her  innocence  she  had  not  enough  fear  to  lose 
her  composure.  She  thought  of  the  woman's  advice, 
"Go  home  if  you  see  anything  wrong,  "but  she  thought 
she  had  best  speak,  as  if  she  saw  nothing  wrong. 

"You  had  better  go  now,  Mr.  Royse,  and  if  you 
come  in  the  morning  and  take  me  to  the  office  you 
spoke  of,  that  is  all  I  expect  of  you." 

He  threw  himself  back  on  the  lounge  with  a  sneer. 

"Indeed,  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  get  work  for 
a  young  lady  that  has  insulted  me?" 

"O,  sir,  I  have  not." 

He  laughed. 

"I  expect  some  return  for  my  kindness." 

"What?"  she  cried,  wonderingly. 

"Well,  be  a  little  friendly  and  affectionate,  you 
know.  Kiss  a  fellow  once  in  a  while." 

"If  that  is  the  case,"  she  said  struggling  against 
her  fears  and  her  anger,  "I  do  not  need  your  services, 
for  I  shall  never  do  anything  of  the  kind." 

He  sprang  up,  angry  then.  He  knew  he  had  not 
meant  all  his  conduct  implied.  He  had  thought  to 
do  right  by  the  girl,  but  he  had  had  a  good  deal  of 
wine  that  evening. 

"Very  well,"  he  stammered,  "if  you  order  me  out, 
I  shall  have  to  go.  If  you  want  me,  let  me  know." 

He  walked  out  the  door  that  she  opened  for  him^ 
and  she  quickly  shut  and  locked  it  after  him;  but  he 
stood  there  a  few  minutes  and  then  tapped  lightly. 
She  opened  the  door  a  little,  holding  it  firmly. 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  45 

"I  am  sorry  I  was  so  rude, "he  said  softly.  "Please 
forgive  me.  Don't  be  angry;  you'll  get  used  to  me 
after  a  while." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  she  answered,  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

"Never  mind,  I'll  call  for  you  at  ten  o'clock  to- 
morrow. Will  you  be  ready?" 

With  a  faint  "Yes"  she  closed  the  door  quickly  and 
locked  it.  He  tapped  hesitatingly  several  times,  but 
receiving  no  reply  he  stood  in  the  hall  a  few  moments, 
and  then  ran  up-stairs  to  the  apartments  of  Mrs.  Ellis, 
bolting  in  without  knocking.  Mrs.  Ellis  was  lying  on 
the  lounge,  but  she  rose  immediately  to  give  him  her 
place. 

"I  am  cross  and  tired,"  he  ejaculated,  making  him- 
self comfortable  at  full  length.  Mrs.  Ellis  tossed  her 
head  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it.     How  is  your  bird   now?" 

"O,  she's  caged.      She's  a  wild  one,  though." 

"I  should  think  so  to  look  at  her.  You'll  get 
caught  yourself  one  of  these  days,  old  man.  For 
goodness  sake,  don't  meddle  with  that  girl,  or  take 
her  to  Lawyer  Grey.  He's  a  bigger  rascal  than  you 
are."  Max  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  hands  through  his 
hair. 

"Minerva,  you're  getting  too  good.  What  church 
do  you  belong  to?" 

"I  am  only  getting  wiser,"  she  said,  stirring  the 
fire  into  a  warm  blaze. 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Minerva,"  he  said  set- 
tling himself  again,  "you're  off  the  track  entirely.  I 


46  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

mean  no  harm  to  the  girl.  I  am  going  to  do  well  by 
her.  I  am  going  to  switch  off  from  Grey,  and  take 
her  up  to  my  wife.  She'll  be  all  right  there,  and 
no  more  trouble  to  me.  I'm  tired  of  her.  She  can 
help  my  wife  run  the  Orphan  Asylum." 

"How  about  business,  Max?  Did  you  bring  that 
money  with  you  ?" 

"Oh,  I  forgot  it.  Never  mind,  I'll  bring  it  around 
in  a  few  days."  She  laughed  sarcastically.  His  few 
days  meant  that  it  would  require  considerable  nag- 
ging to  get  it.  About  its  ultimate  delivery,  however, 
there  was  no  question.  She  had  the  power  to  make 
it  come. 

"I'll  wait  a  few  months,  Max,  and  then  I'll  call  on 
your  wife." 

"All  right,  Minerva,  let  me  rest  a  few  minutes,  I'm 
tired/' 

A  few  minutes  before  twelve,  Mrs.  Ellis  went  into 
Cis  Beverly's  room.  The  little  trunk  was  ready,  and 
the  girl  was  bending  over  the  sleeping  infant  in  the 
bed.  She  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Ellis,  seemingly  quite 
contented  with  her  plans. 

"She  hasn't  enough  clothes,  Mrs.  Ellis,  but  I  will 
make  more,  and  bring  them  as  soon  as  I  am  able. 
These  are  just  what  I  made  of  my  own  old  clothes. 
They  are  not  very  nice."  She  rolled  a  little  bundle 
together  and  laid  it  in  a  large  basket  Mrs.  Ellis  had 
provided.  Presently  Mrs.  Ellis  went  out  of  the  room, 
and  she  and  Max  were  whispering  together  outside  in 
the  hall. 

Cis  lifted  up  the  child,  and  kissed  it  tenderly.     She 


A  GIRL'S  JOURNEY  47 

laid  it  down  and  looked  at  it  sorrowfully,  then,  smiling 
softly,  she  took  an  old  letter  from  her  pocket,  tore 
the  letter  into  bits,  and  taking  her  pencil,  wrote  on 
the  back  of  the  envelope.  She  then  slipped  the 
envelope  under  the  baby's  dress,  wrapped  the  child 
warmly,  and  arranged  it  comfortably  in  the  basket 
on  a  pillow. 

"Won't  Mrs.  Ellis  smile  when  she  sees  that?"  she 
whispered,  as  she  carefully  drew  a  veil  over  the  in- 
fant's face. 

Then  in  a  few  minutes  it  was  all  over.  Mrs.  Ellis 
came  in,  took  the  milk  bottles,  and  a  little  alcohol 
stove  in  one  hand,  and  the  basket  in  the  other.  She 
leaned  over  and  kissed  the  girl's  white  forehead  with 
a  kind,  womanly  manner,  of  which  she  was  quite 
capable. 

"Don't  make  a  scene!  Be  brave  now,"  she  whis- 
pered, and  glided  off  noiselessly  to  her  rooms  with 
her  burdens. 

A  man  came  and  took  the  trunk,  and  poor,  confid- 
ing Cis  Beverly  went  downstairs,  still  trusting  the 
wretch  who  had  led  her  to  ruin;  she  was  looking  for- 
ward to  a  speedy  righting  of  her  wrongs,  and  the 
prospect  of  returning  to  Hardup,  the  bride  of  a 
wealthy  man,  whose  bounty  would  rescue  her  grand- 
parents from  toil  and  poverty. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    JOKE    TAKEN  PRACTICALLY. 

Mrs.  Ellis  placed  the  basket  and  contents  before 
the  fire  in  her  room  and  sat  down  to  think.  She  did 
not  exactly  relish  the  work  before  her,  but  she  liked 
the  money  it  would  bring.  Presently  she  rose,  went 
into  the  hall,  and  called  softly: 

"Sam,  Sam,  get  up,  I  want  to  see  you."  She 
came  back  and  sat  down  in  a  comfortable  chair, 
loosened  her  tight  clothes,  and  unwound  her  heavy 
coil  of  hair. 

Sam  glided  in,  apparently  not  the  least  disturbed 
by  being  called  at  midnight. 

"Sam,  look  at  that  young  one."  Sam  looked  at 
the  basket  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly. 

"Do  you  want  to  earn  ten  dollars,  Sam?"  Sam 
arched  his  brow  slightly. 

"What  do?" 

"Just  carry  that  basket  up  town  before  daylight, 
and  leave  it  where  I  tell  you.  Do  you  know  where 
that  Infant  Shelter  is  on  Howell  Street,  Sam?" 

"Yes,  I  sabe." 

"Well,  leave  it  on  the  steps,  and  don't  let  any  one 
see  you." 

"What  for  you  give  him  away?" 

"Give  it  away,  Sam?     I  want  to  g«t  rid  of  it,  you 

48 


A    JOKE    TAKEN    PRACTICALLY  49 

stupid.  You  be  ready  now,  and  take  it  up,  and  I 
will  give  you  twenty  dollars." 

Sam  came  a  step  nearer. 

"You  not  give  him  away.  Him  girl  baby,  you  sell 
him." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Sam?" 

"I  go  get  Chinaman  buy  him.  Give  you  twenty, 
me  twenty.  You  say  all  right."  Mrs.  Ellis  was 
surprised. 

"What,  you  eat    him,  Sam?" 

"No,  raise  him  in  Chinatown.  Make  him  slave. 
Sell  him  six  hundred  dollars."  Mrs.  Ellis  was  not 
an  entirely  wicked  woman.  She  held  up  her  hands 
in  horror. 

"Sam,  you're  a  wicked  boy!  Go  away.  I'll  have 
nothing  to  do  with  you."  Sam  hung  his  head  and 
turned  away. 

"You  do  as  I  tell  you,  Sam,"  she  said  sharply. 
"You'll  get  your  twenty  dollars  anyway.  You  can't 
fool  me,  either,  I'll  find  it  out  if  you  do.  Sam  hesi- 
tated. 

"Baby  cry?" 

"No  Sam,  I've  put  sleeping  medicine  in  its  milk, 
lots  of  it." 

"All  light,  you  keep  him  one  day.  I  go  to-morrow 
night."  Sam  had  taken  in  the  situation,  and  in  true 
Chinese  style,  had  decided  to  strike  for  better  terms, 
or  force  her,  by  delay,  to  accept  his  proposition. 

"O,  no,  Sam,"  she  pleaded,  "you  go  to-night." 

"Too  muchee  cold.  I  go  to-morrow  night."  And 
Sam  slowly  backed  out  of  the  room. 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    4 


50  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Mrs.  Ellis  was  vexed,  but  she  knew  Sam  thought 
too  much  of  twenty  dollars  to  fail  to  earn  it;  so  she 
kept  her  composure  and  wisely  concluded  to  make 
the  best  of  her  circumstances.  But  she  was  annoyed 
with  the  thought  of  keeping  the  child  in  her  room  all 
day.  Some  one  might  call  and  discover  it,  and  she 
laid  down  so  disturbed  by  her  reflections,  that  she 
slept  lightly  and  but  little. 

About  three  in  the  morning  a  brilliant  idea  occurred 
to  her;  and  she  arose  and  lit  the  gas,  laughing  softly 
to  herself  as  she  moved  about  the  rooms. 

She  had  been  annoyed  with  Max  because  he  had 
not  brought  her  the  money,  and  it  occurred  to  her 
that  she  might  punish  him,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
rid  herself  of  the  child  during  the  following  day. 

She  would  petrify  the  country  girl  with  astonish- 
ment, give  Max  a  chance  to  do  some  tall  lying  and 
acting,  and  worry  them  both,  till  the  next  evening, 
when  she  could  cojne  in  as  a  benevolent  and  kind- 
hearted  observer,  and  take  the  child.  There  was  no 
risk  to  take,  and  she  knew  that  Max  could  think  of  a 
lie  as  quick  as  she  could,  and  she  would  have  a  good 
joke  on  him. 

So  she  took  the  child  up,  fed  it  with  more  of  the 
prepared  milk;  arranged  it  neatly  in  the  basket,  and 
covered  it  with  the  shawl  Cis  had  left  with  it;  she 
then  slipped  quietly  down  stairs. 

Meanwhile  poor  Hulda  had  passed  a  miserable 
night.  When  Royse  had  finally  left  her,  she  stood 
with  a  palpitating  heart,  agonizing  and  unwelcome 
convictions  rushing  into  her  mind. 


A   JOKE    TAKEN    PRACTICALLY  51 

"Oh  mother,  mother,"  she  cried,  bursting  into 
tears,  and  sinking  down  on  her  knees  by  the  lounge. 
"Why  did  I  ever  leave  you?  What  made  me  dare  to 
come  away  from  my  pretty  home?"  The  girl  had  no 
conception  of  the  real  character  of  Max  Royse,  but 
she  had  never  seen  any  man  act  as  he  had  acted,  and 
she  knew  that  in  some  way  she  was  disappointed^ 
and  had  been  deceived.  She  had  noticed  his  wine- 
tainted  breath,  and  that  alone,  to  her  simple  mind, 
was  sufficient  to  decide  her.  She  wanted  nothing 
to  do  with  a  man  who  drank  wine.  Her  tears  re- 
lieved her,  and  when  she  had  stopped  crying,  she 
began  to  think  to  some  purpose.  How  her  heart 
ached,  and  how  lonely  and  frightened  she  was  in  that 
great  city  alone!  She  thought  of  her  mother  sleep- 
ing quietly  in  the  snug  little  cottage  home,  the  old 
clock  ticking  away  the  tranquil  hours.  She  took 
from  her  bosom  her  father's  old-fashioned  silver  watch. 
It  was  eleven  o'clock.  She  could  hear  steps  occa- 
sionally passing  her  door.  Home  seemed  to  her, 
just  then,  the  best  and  dearest  place  in  the  world. 
She  resolved  to  leave  the  house  early  in  the  morning, 
inquire  her  way  back  to  the  boat,  and  return  to 
Hardup.  She  was  too  nervous  to  undress  herself, 
and  she  did  not  know  how  to  put  out  the  gas.  So, 
with  the  light  still  burning,  she  lay  down  and 
tried  to  rest.  A  quick  step  sounding  in  the  hall 
startled  her,  and  she  sprang  into  the  middle  of  the 
room.  But  she  lay  down  again,  and  fell  into  uneasy 
slumber.  She  dreamed  that  the  boat  was  sinking, 
and  that  Cis  Beverly  was  struggling  in  the  water. 


52  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

David  Strong  and  her  mother  floated  in  a  boat,  and 
Cis  was  clasping  her  cold  white  fingers  about  the 
dreamer's  neck.  Then  she  awoke  trembling  with 
the  name  of  her  loved  schoolmate  on  her  lips.  She 
began  to  think  of  Cis  Beverly.  She  ought  certainly 
to  make  some  effort  to  see  her.  But  it  would  be 
very  hard  to  try  to  find  her  alone,  without  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  city.  How  could  she  do  it?  Would  she 
dare  to  try?  She  lay  thinking  it  all  over  again  and 
again.  Dropping  to  sleep  she  was  awakened  by  a 
tapping  on  her  door.  She  sprang  to  the  door  and 
nervously  held  the  key.  A  woman's  voice  spoke 
softly. 

"Miss  Hardy,  are  you  awake?  I  have  a  package 
for  you.  I  was  directed  to  deliver  it  immediately." 

Recognizing  the  voice  as  that  of  the  landlady, 
Hulda  unlocked  the  door  and  opened  it  slightly.  Mrs. 
Ellis  pushed  herself  in  quickly,  and  placed  the  basket 
on  the  floor,  while  the  girl  looked  at  it  and  her  with 
astonishment. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis,  "a  messenger  boy 
brought  it,  and  wanted  it  delivered  immediately.  I 
said  I  would  see  to  it,  and  he  went  away." 

"There  is  no  one  to  send  me  anything,"  persisted 
Hulda. 

"Perhaps  your  friend,  Mr.  Royse,  has  sent  you 
some  new  clothes,"  answered  Mrs.  Ellis,  retreating 
to  the  door,  "it  was  for  you,  any  way."  She  quickly 
shut  the  door  and  was  soon  in  her  own  bed  shaking 
with  laughter.  Hulda  first  locked  the  door  carefully, 


A   JOKE    TAKEN    PRACTICALLY  53 

then  she  turned  and  knelt  by  the  basket,  with  burn- 
ing cheeks.  Would  that  man  have  the  impudence 
to  send  her  clothes? 

She  removed  a  newspaper  that  was  neatly  tucked 
over  the  basket.  Then  she  droppped  it  and  clasped 
her  hands  in  dumb  surprise.  The  shawl  covering  the 
basket  was  as  familiar  to  her,  as  her  own  dress.  It 
was  an  old  shawl  Cis  Beverly  used  to  wear  to  school; 
and  Hulda  had  many  times  worn  it  about  her  own 
shoulders. 

She  carefully  pulled  it  off,  and  the  babe,  still  sleep- 
ing, threw  up  one  little  arm  into  her  face.  The  rec- 
ognition of  the  shawl  was  a  revelation,  and  she  knew 
at  once  that  the  child  before  her  had  some  connec- 
tion with  her  old  schoolmate.  Her  curiosity  was 
equal  to  her  surprise,  and  she  proceeded  to  examine 
the  contents  of  the  basket.  The  child's  dress  was  of 
old,  faded  lawn,  exactly  like  a  dress  Cis  used  to 
wear.  The  long  white  skirt,  made  of  thin  muslin, 
was  trimmed  with  lace  Hulda  hersef  had  given  to 
Cecelia  Beverly.  Full  of  curiosity  to  know  more, 
she  lifted  the  babe  and  laid  it  on  the  bed.  A  paper 
fluttered  to  the  floor.  Hulda  snatched  it.  It  was 
an  envelope  she  herself  had  directed  to  Cis,  and  on  it 
was  written  in  her  friend's  own  handwriing,  "Take 
good  care  of  my  baby.  I  have  named  her  Nonie.  I 
will  come  and  claim  her  just  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Hulda  sat  on  the  bed  and  read  the  writing  over 
and  over,  thinking  out  her  conclusion.  Cis  was  in 
some  kind  of  trouble,  evidently,  and  was  asking  her 
for  assistance.  In  all  probability  she  had  been  de- 


54  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

serted  by  her  husband.  She  again  looked  through  the 
basket,  and  found  the  roll  of  clothes,  and  the  nurs- 
ing bottle,  full  of  milk.  Then  she  concluded  that  in 
some  way  Cis  had  learned  of  her  arrival,  and  had 
taken  this  way  of  compelling  her  to  serve  and  help 
her.  Hulda  looked  about  the  room,  and  seeing  the 
grate  filled  with  kindling  wood  and  coal,  she  started 
a  fire  and  placed  the  bottle  near  it  to  keep  warm. 
She  stood  a  long  time  trying  to  think  what  to  do. 
To  her  wearied  and  distressed  mind,  there  was  only 
one  thing  to  do,  to  go  to  her  own  home.  Cis,  evi- 
dently, was  hiding  from  her,  and  how  could  she  find 
her,  any  way,  with  that  baby  on  her  hands?  At  six 
clock  in  the  morning,  Hulda  opened  her  door  and 
looked  out  into  the  hall.  There  was  no  one  in  sight. 
She  ventured  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  looked 
down  into  the  street.  She  saw  a  boy  coming  up  with 
a  load  of  morning  papers  on  his  arm.  She  was  glad. 
She  was  not  afraid  of  a  boy. 

"Will  you  tell  me  the  best  way,  please,"  she  said, 
"to  get  to  the  Vallejo  boat." 

"Take  any  car  passing  the  door,"  he  answered,  as 
he  rushed  by.  Hulda  fled  back  to  her  room  much 
relieved.  She  wanted  to  get  away  without  seeing 
the  landlady.  She  did  not  want  to  have  to  tell  any- 
thing about  the  mysterious  child  and  her  friend.  She 
instinctively  felt  that  there  was  some  kind  of  a  secret 
that  must  be  preserved. 

At  sundown  when  the  train  stopped  at  Forest 
Grove,  Hicks  was  waiting  with  his  stage.  When  he 
saw  Hulda  getting  off  a  car,  burdened  with  a  basket, 
he  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment. 


A    JOKE    TAKEN    PRACTICALLY  55 

"Here  you  are,  bag  and  baggage.  I  knew  you'd 
be  back  to  the  dance,"  he  said,  teasingly,  and  trying 
to  take  the  basket. 

"No,  no,  don't  touch  it,"  she  cried.  "Here  is  the 
check  for  my  valise.  Get  it  quick,  I  want  it,"  and 
while  he  was  gone,  she  climbed  into  the  stage.  The 
child  began  to  fret,  and  cry,  and  she  had  it  in  her 
arms,  when  he  returned. 

"Holy  Jehosephat!  What  have  you  got  there?" 
he  cried. 

"Hush!  Hicks,  don't  you  know  a  baby  when  you 
see  it?" 

"By  Gum!     Hain't  yours,  I  hope." 

"It's  my  cousin's.  She  died  in  the  city,"  stam- 
mered the  heroic,  suffering  girl,  who  had  had  all  day 
to  think  what  to  say. 

"And  you  brought  it  all  the  way  alone?  My! 
Ain't  you  a  brick?  But  Lord!  you  look  tired. 
You're  dead  worn  out." 

"Never  mind,  Hicks,  take  me  home." 

"Not  by  a  long  shot,  till  you  have  something  to 
eat." 

He  slammed  the  door  and  drove  directly  to  one  of 
the  hotels,  and,  paying  no  attention  to  her  protesta- 
tions, he  rushed  her  into  the  parlor.  She  heard  him 
telling  the  landlady  that  she  was  a  brave  girl  from 
Hardup,  who  had  brought  her  cousin's  baby  all  the 
way  from  the  city  alone.  The  motherly  landlady 
bustled  in  full  of  questions  and  kindness,  and  warmed, 
comforted  and  fed  the  baby,  while  Hulda  went  to  the 
table  and  ate  for  the  first  time  that  day.  She  took 


56  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

her  last  fifty  cents  from  her  purse  to  pay  for  her  sup- 
per. But  Hicks  had  already  paid  for  it,  and  was 
warming  robes  to  wrap  her  in,  or  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing sharp  and  keen  from  the  east.  Hulda  laughed 
when  she  heard  him  stowing  five  Chinamen  on  top 
of  the  stage. 

Her  heart  began  to  leave  her,  as  the  stage  rolled 
along  through  the  gathering  darkness  towards  her 
home.  What  would  her  mother  say,  when  she  had 
gone  away  to  support  herself,  to  come  back  with  a 
burden.  It  was  a  strange  thing  to  do. 

She  wondered  then  at  all  her  nervousness  and  fear 
of  the  city,  and  began  to  think  that  she  ought  to  have 
staid  longer,  to  try  to  find  out  something  about  the 
baby.  Then  she  shuddered  to  think  of  again  being 
in  the  presence  or  power  of  the  man  who  intended 
to  call  for  her  at  ten  o'clock. 

Hicks  helped  her  out  of  the  stage,  and  his  prais- 
ing was  stimulating,  and  his  commendation  gave  her 
encouragement.  He  put  her  valise  inside  the  gate; 
she  took  the  basket,  and  stumbled  through  the  dark- 
ness alone.  It  was  cold,  and  there  was  no  time  for 
hesitation,  so  she  opened  the  back  door  and  called 
out  in  a  loud,  cheerful  voice,  "Mother,  mother,  I 
have  come  home.  Ar'n't  you  glad?" 

The  mother  was  sitting  in  the  warm  little  sitting- 
room  sewing,  and  she  only  had  time  to  lay  aside  her 
glasses  and  drop  her  work,  when  Hulda  sank  at  her 
feet,  and  began  to  sob  out  her  whole  miserable  story. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HARDUP   LIFE. 

Far  into  the  night,  and  again  in  the  morning  the 
two  women  talked,  and  Hulda  passed  from  girlhood 
to  womanhood  in  these  long  and  serious  consulta- 
tions. Mrs.  Hardy  had  considered  the  matter  over 
and  over,  while  Hulda  slept  the  sleep  of  wearied 
youth,  till  late  in  the  morning. 

Hulda  had  recklessly  told  the  stage  driver  that  it 
was  her  cousin's  child,  and  they  were  already  pub- 
licly committed  to  keep  the  baby,  until  Cis  came  for 
it,  or  until  they  could  get  rid  of  it,  in  some  plausible 
way.  Besides,  everyone  in  town  already  knew  that 
Hulda  had  gone  to  the  city,  and  it  seemed  to  the 
mother  that  the  appearance  of  the  child  was  a  good 
way  to  account  for  the  trip,  doing  away  with  any 
necessity  of  explaining  Hulda' s  foolish  journey,  and 
the  grievous  disappointment.  She  reproached  herself 
bitterly  for  ever  having  allowed  her  daughter  to  take 
the  trip;  she  was  devoutly  thankful  to  have  her  back 
safe  and  sound.  And,  the  more  she  thought  of  it, 
the  more  she  was  glad  that  the  baby  had  come  in, 
to  be  used  as  a  public  excuse  for  that  trip. 

Thinking  of  the  baby,  as  having  been  providentially 
supplied  as  an  excuse,  her  heart  warmed  to  the  poor 
little  waif.  She  thought  it  hardly  probable  that  the 

57 


58  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

babe  had  a  legal  father,  and  she  presented  this  truth 
to  her  pure  daughter's  mind,  as  gently  as  possible. 

"Well,  then,  that  is  another  reason  we  should 
claim  it  as  our  cousin's,"  said  Hulda.  "If  we  should 
tell  the  real  story,  it  would  break  poor  Grandma 
Beverly's  heart.  The  old  folks  would  die  of  grief." 

"No,  daughter,  we  ought  never  to  tell  the  real 
story,"  said  the  mother,  sadly  and  without  reflection. 

"Besides,"  continued  Hulda,  "here  is  the  note, 
where  she  says  she  will  come  for  it  herself.  She 
'must  expect  to  come  out  of  her  trouble  all  right,  or 
she  would  never  say  that." 

"If  we  are  helping  her  to  save  herself,  we  ought 
certainly  to  keep  the  secret  and  the  baby,"  said  Mrs. 
Hardy. 

"What  will  we  say  the  baby's  name  is,  mother? 
Nonie?  Nonie  what?"  Mrs.  Hardy  considered 
thoughtfully. 

"I  did  have  a  cousin  die  in  the  states.  Her  name 
was  Graham." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Hulda.  "Nonie  Graham. 
And  now  you  tend  to  Cousin  Nonie  Graham,  while  I 
wash  the  dishes." 

When  Mrs.  Hardy  undressed  the  baby,  she  found 
around  its  neck  a  little  thin  gold  chain.  Hulda  took 
it  eagerly. 

"The  very  chain,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  Cis  wore 
to  school  for  years !" 

They  took  the  note,  the  chain,  the  shawl  and  the 
clothes  that  people  might  recognize,  and  locked  them 
away  securely.  Happily  a  snow-storm  came  up  that 


HARDUP    LIFE  59 

morning,  followed  by  rain,  so  that  the  mother  and 
daughter  had  time  to  make  more  clothes,  and  thor- 
oughly rehearse  their  parts  before  the  inquisitive 
neighbors  had  a  chance  to  come  in.  And  the  little 
stranger  in  the  rocking  chair  by  the  stove,  seemed 
to  thoroughly  appreciate  its  good  fortune,  and  made 
very  little  trouble. 

Meanwhile  Hulda's  mind,  hitherto  rendered  un- 
naturally dormant  by  her  uneventful  life,  had  been 
roused  into  activity  by  her  strange  adventure.  She 
began  to  think  with  some  vigor  and  purpose.  She 
had  learned  the  value  of  home  and  friends,  and  the 
foolishness  of  putting  her  trust  in  strangers.  And 
what  child  of  fortune  or  misfortune  does  not  have  to 
learn  this  sooner  or  later?  She  had  learned  the  value 
of  her  mother,  too,  and  after  that  long  morning's 
talk,  Hulda  took  the  leading  hand  in  the  housework, 
and  regulated  everything  to  her  own  orderly  habits. 
With  her  vigorous  methods  and  quick  motions,  the 
work  seemed  to  disappear  by  magic,  and  the  little 
household  fell  into  systematic  quiet  and  order.  Mrs. 
Hardy  brought  up  an  old  plan  she  had  had  in  her 
mind,  of  trying  to  persuade  her  daughter  to  become 
a  teacher,  and  Hulda  at  once  accepted  the  idea,  so 
anxious  was  she  to  atone  for  her  unfortunate  trip  to 
the  city,  to  forget  its  memories,  and  redeem  herself 
in  her  own  eyes. 

Before  the  storm  cleared  away  Hulda's  school 
books  displaced  her  Latin  books  on  the  sitting-room 
table,  and  she  began  to  study  in  earnest.  She  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  attend  the  Teachers'  Exami- 


60  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

nation  at  Forest  Grove  in  March,  and  she  had  no  time 
to  spare. 

When  the  storm  cleared  a  way,  Hulda  made  her 
way  through  the  mud  to  the  postomce,  hoping  to 
get  some  word  from  Cis,  but  there  was  nothing  there, 
and  the  two  women  began  to  seriously  accept  the 
fear  that  something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  girl. 

During  all  this,  they  had  seen  nothing  of  David, 
and  Hulda  was  glad.  They  dreaded  to  see  him, 
when  they  had  such  a  secret  on  their  minds,  and  they 
hoped  he  would  be  so  sensible  as  to  stay  away  awhile, 
when  he  heard  they  had  a  young  baby  in  the  house. 

But  one  evening  Hulda  heard  a  great  shuffling  and 
scraping  on  the  back  porch  and  a  good-natured  laugh 
in  the  kitchen,  and  she  knew  David  was  there  speak- 
ing with  her  mother.  She  moved  the  rocking  chair, 
with  its  little  sleeping  burden,  into  the  corner,  and 
her  face  was  bent  over  her  slate  when  he  came  in. 
But  she  rose  and  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  simple 
welcome. 

"Well,  how's  the  family,  especially  the  new  part 
of  it?"  he  said,  getting  down  into  a  chair  and  trying 
to  pack  his  feet  away  into  a  small  space. 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Hulda,  gravely  looking  at  her 
mother  to  gain  courage. 

"What's  the  matter  here?  you  look  kinder  sober," 
he  continued  in  his  usual  jocular  manner. 

"We  can't  be  funny  all  the  time,  as  you  are,"  said 
the  mother  pleasantly. 

"By  the  way,  Hulda,"  he  said,  "you're  a  funny 
girl  to  fly  off  to  the  city  alone  without  letting  me 
know." 


•  How  is  the  family,  especially  the  new  part  of  it?" 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch. 


HARDUP    LIFE  6i 

"No  more  than  you  did,  Dave,"  she  retorted 
quickly,  but  he  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"Didn't  see  any  one  I  know  down  there,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said,  after  some  moments,  as  he  carefully 
polished  his  knife  blade  on  the  sole  of  his  boot. 
Hulda  s  head  bent  lower  over  her  slate,  and  Mrs. 
Hardy  answered  for  her. 

"How  could  she  see  anyone?     She  had  no  time." 

"Then  you  didn't  know  she'd  been  sick!"  As  if 
they  must  know  of  whom  he  was  thinking. 

"Well,  I  was  over  to  see  the  old  folks  yesterday. 
They've  had  a  letter  from  Cis.  She  says  she's  been 
sick,  but  after  awhile,  she's  coming  home  on  a  visit. 
It's  the  same  old  story,  though.  I  don't  believe  she 
will."  Both  the  women  were  silent,  with  bent  heads, 
and  when  David  had  finished  polishing  his  knife,  and 
put  it  away,  he  sat  upright  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  began  to  tell  them  of  the  various  little 
matters  of  gossip  about  town. 

"You  ought  to  see  the  new  teacher,  Hulda.  He's 
a  regular  old  maid.  He'd  just  suit  you.  He's  down 
there  at  the  hotel  fussing  like  an  old  hen  because  it's 
noisy  at  night,  and  noisy  in  the  morning,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all.  Better  take  him  in  here,  Hulda." 

Hulda  looked  up  with  an  eager  expression  at  her 
mother.  They  had  not  been  having  the  teacher  for 
some  years. 

"YeSj  mother,  do.  I'll  do  the  cooking,"  said  the 
girl,  thinking  of  the  profit.  David  laughed  heartily 
and  seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  good  joke. 

"Yes,  David,  she  really  can  cook  very    well,"  said 


62  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

Mrs.  Hardy.  "And  if  Hulda  insists  upon  studying 
for  a  teacher,  I  will  take  him ;  he  might  offer  to  give 
her  some  help."  David  rose  to  go. 

"All  right,  I'll  send  him  up  in  the  morning.  Hold, 
a  minute,  providing,  Hulda,  you'll  promise  to  go  to 
the  social  Tuesday  night  with  me.  I'll  allow  -no 
cranky  school-teacher  to  get  ahead  of  me." 

"You  must  go,"  said  the  mother  gently. 

"O,  dear,  if  I  have  to!  How  I  do  hate  socials!" 
complained  Hulda,  following  David  to  the  front  door. 

"All  right,  I'll  be  around  to  help  you  through  the 
misery.  Good-night,  then. "  And  David  strode 
away,  whistling  cheerily. 

The  next  day  after  school  hours  the  teacher  came, 
and  was  immediately  taken  to  the  front,  up-stairs 
chamber,  that  Hulda  had  spent  the  day  cleaning  and 
arranging.  The  furniture  was  mostly  composed  of 
dry  goods  boxes,  curtained  in  spotless  white,  and 
adorned  with  crimson  ribbons;  but  there  was  a  good, 
wide  table,  covered  with  white,  for  a  desk,  a  comfort- 
able rocker,  a  clean,  fresh  rag-carpet,  prints  on  the 
walls,  and  blooming  plants  by  the  window;  and 
Joseph  Cornman,  washing  his  chalky  hands  in  the 
white  bowl,  thought  it  was  delightfully  charming  and 
homelike.  He  was  grateful  to  escape  from  his  dark, 
untidy  room  at  the  stage  station,  and  he  went  down 
to  the  savory  dinner,  odorous  from  below,  with  his 
most  complacent  smile. 

Mr.  Cornman  was  a  large,  thin  man;  he  wore  a 
coat  too  large,  and  too  thin  for  that  season  of  the 
year.  His  cold,  blue  eyes  were  well  set  in  his  head, 


HARDUP    LIFE  63 

and  his  smile  was  the  well  trained  expression  of 
naturally  awkward  features.  But  his  look  was  keenly 
intelligent,  and  his  movements  were  graceful  and 
methodical. 

Having  practiced  the  profession  of  teaching  for 
twenty  years,  he  had  found  policy  and  economy  to  be 
his  most  useful  principles  and  he  practiced  them  both 
faithfully.  The  former,  so  well  that  he  was  generally 
considered  to  be  a  successful  teacher,  the  latter,  so 
well,  that  he  had  saved  enough  to  have  a  very  credit- 
able bank  account.  He  could  spell  anything  in  the 
English  language,  and  professed  to  a  modest  knowl- 
edge of  Latin  and  Greek.  He  allowed  no  one  to 
challenge  his  pronunciation,  and  the  enthusiastic 
preacher,  who  in  the  heat  of  fervor,  departed  slightly 
from  the  standard  pronunciation,  found  an  immediate 
record  in  the  teacher's  never  absent  note-book.  He 
had  not  been  long  at  the  Hardy  cottage  when  Hulda 
called  him  the  pronunciation  old  maid,  and  hung  in 
his  room  a  blue  silk  pin  cushion  full  of  assorted  pins. 
At  the  first  meal  at  the  house,  he  had  set  the  girl's 
face  in  a  glow  by  correcting  her  pronunciation  several 
times.  She  soon  began  to  receive  his  correction 
complacently,  and  then  to  invite  his  criticisms.  Mr. 
Cornman,  though  not  giving  to  bestowing  his  time 
gratuitously,  developed  a  critical  interest  in  the  girl's 
progress,  and  when  David  appeared  Tuesday  night  to 
take  Hulda  to  the  social,  the  teacher  was  bending 
over  Hulda' s  shoulder  directing  her  in  her  last  pages 
in  arithmetic. 

Hulda,  knowing  that  her  hair  was  tidy,  put  on  her 


64  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

hat  and  shawl  without  leaving  the  room,  and  she 
and  David  were  soon  picking  their  way  through  the 
mud,  in  the  clear  moonlight  of  the  cold  winter 
evening. 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  your  old  Crusty  with  you?" 
said  David,  when  they  came  to  the  door  of  the 
house,  which  was  open  to  the  members  of  the  church 
and  the  people  of  the  town,  for  an  entrance  fee  of 
te'n  cents,  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  days 
of  Dime  Socials. 

"Oh,"  cried  Hulda,  "I  should  have  asked  him.  I 
forgot  it.  Hadn't  we  better  go  back  and  get  him?" 

"Not  much,  if  I  know  myself,"  said  David, 
brusquely,  pushing  the  girl  before  him  into  the  house. 
She  removed  her  wrap  in  the  narrow  front  hall,  then 
David  again  thrust  her  forward  into  the  next  room, 
which  was  lined  with  people  sitting  against  the  walls. 

There  was  an  outburst  of  greeting  and  laughter,  as 
the  glowing  girl  made  her  appearance,  followed  by 
the  blustering,  blundering  David,  whom  everybody 
liked.  He  was  claimed  at  once  by  several  different 
friends,  but  carried  away  finally  by  some  laughing 
young  girls  to  the  kitchen,  where  a  handkerchief  was 
bound  around  his  eyes,  and  he  was  at  once  made  the 
central  figure  in  a  boisterous  game  of  "Blind-man's- 
buff." 

Hulda,  ill  at  ease,  sank  into  a  corner;  the  minis- 
ter's wife  came  and  spoke  to  her,  inquired  about  her 
mother  and  the  cousin's  baby,  then  seeing  a  new 
arrival,  hurried  away  on  her  mission  of  giving  a  smile 
and  a  word  of  welcome  to  every  one.  Hulda  heard 


HARDUP    LIFE  65 

the  laughter  in  the  kitchen  and  was  about  to  get 
herself  out  there,  in  some  unobserved  moment,  when 
Mrs.  Merry,  the  committee  on  introduction  for  the 
evening,  entered  the  room,  followed  by  Hulda's 
boarder. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  Mr.  Cornman,  the 
new  teacher,"  she  said  majestically, then  relapsing 
from  her  dignity,  she  motioned  to  Hulda. 

"Here,"  she  said,  "you  come  show  him  around." 
She  ran  back  into  the  hall  for  a  new  subject,  and 
Hulda,  as  she  saw  no  escape,  stood  up  awkwardly 
and  introduced  him  to  a  few  people  close  at  hand, 
then  shrank  back  into  her  corner.  He  immediately 
sat  down  beside  her  with  the  crisp  remark: 

"I  thought  I  would  come,  Miss  Hardy,  even  though 
you  omitted  to  invite  me." 

"Oh, "she  said,  overcome  with  confusion,  "I  didn't 
think  of  it.  I  didn't  know  it  was  my  place." 

"Oh,  well,"  he  returned,  crossing  his  awkward 
length  of  limb  and  smiling  shrewdly,  "I  will  overlook 
it  this  time.  You  had  a  beau!" 

He  apparently  enjoyed  the  expression  of  wild  as- 
tonishment on  her  face.  She  did  not  consider  David 
her  beauy  and  plainly  said  so. 

"But  that  only  indicates  a  more  complicated  state 
of  affairs, "insinuated  the  teacher,  looking  searchingly 
at  her  face,  while  the  waves  of  color  rolled  over  it. 
But  David  had  peeped  into  the  room,  and  seeing  her 
distress,  crossed  over  to  them. 

"Bless  me!"  he  exclaimed, seizing  the  teacher's  hand 
and  shaking  it  long  and  vigorously.  "How  do  you 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    5 


66  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

do?  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here.      Why  didn't  you  come 
with  us?" 

It  was  Mr.  Cornman's  turn  to  be  discomfitted. 
He  saw  the  point  with  a  dry  smile,  and  rose  to  move 
his  seat.  But  David  stopped  him  and  tumbled  into 
Hulda's  lap  a  suit  of  cards  of  the  then  popular  parlor 
game  of  Authors. 

"Let's  have  a  game.  Keep  your  seat,  do,"  persisted 
David  Strong,  enjoying  the  chance  of  keeping  the 
teacher  in  a  corner.  He  moved  up  some  chairs  and 
quickly  brought  up  a  sprightly  old  maid  and  a  small 
boy.  Hulda  assorted  the  cars  and  the 'game  began, 
Hulda  playing  wretchedly.  She  was  just  beginning 
to  take  impressions  about  others,  and  the  teacher 
annoyed  and  confused  her.  She  knew  nothing 
about  character  study.  She  only  knew  some  people 
were  kind  to  her,  others  were  not.  She  was  beginning 
to  assign  the  teacher  to  his  place  in  the  scale  as  she 
played.  Between  her  thoughts,  and  David's  laugh- 
able remarks,  she  lost  all  her  points,  and  the  cards 
accumulated  in  the  hands  of  the  teacher,  and  the  de- 
lighted, little  old  maid.  The  teacher  grew  more 
genial,  and  made  very  correct  little  jokes,  and  David 
whispered  to  the  old  maid  that  he  thought  the  new 
teacher  was  smitten  with  her;  she  grew  more 
sprightly.  Suddenly  the  small  boy  threw  down  his 
cards,  and  David,  muttering  something  about  two 
being  better  company  than  four,  took  Hulda's  arm 
and  led  her  out  to  the  kitchen,  declaring  that  if  she 
couldn't  play  she  should  work.  The  sisters  of  the 
church,  who  were  cutting  cake  and  pouring  tea,  de  • 


HARDUP    LIFE  67 

clared  that  these  were  the  very  waiters  they  wanted, 
and  that  no  one  else  would  do  as  well. 

David  burdened  himself  with  a  large  tray  of  cups, 
and  limping,  and  pretending  to  suffer  greatly,  called 
to  Hulda  to  follow  with  the  cake.  Hulda  was  bright 
enough  to  surmise,  that  the  women  did  not  really 
care  for  her  help,  she  being  too  slow  and  sedate,  but 
that  they  had  asked  her  simply  to  please  David,  be- 
cause they  wanted  his  invaluable  services,  he  being 
a  great  success  at  selling  tea,  at  five  cents  a  cup. 
But  Hulda  wanted  to  please  David  herself,  so  she 
accepted  the  task,  wondering  if  she  could  not  disap- 
point the  good  sisters,  and  do  better  than  they  sup- 
posed she  could.  She  succeeded  so  well,  that  when 
she  returned  to  have  her  plates  filled,  Mrs.  Merry  re- 
marked to  a  friend:  "How  that  Hulda  Hardy  is 
coming  out.  I  never  saw  her  act  like  a  young  lady 
before.  I  wonder  if  she  isn't  in  love  with  David." 

Mr.  Cornman  treated  himself  and  the  old  maid  to 
tea  and  cake,  and  remarked,  smiling  at  the  young 
couple  before  him,  "I suppose  this  is  typical  of  future 
dispensation  of  refreshments  from  your  domicile." 

Hulda  colored  and  looked  miserable,  but  David 
put  on  a  vacant  look,  and  said,  turning  away,  "Too 
much  dictionary  in  that  for  me!  Can't  sense  it,  sir." 

Every  one  in  the  corner  laughed  aloud,  appreciat- 
ing his  humor,  more  than  the  feeble  wit  of  the 
teacher. 

"See  here,"  said  David  to  Hulda,  as,  they  went 
back  to  the  kitchen,  "you  have  to  learn  to  be  saucy, 
if  you  want  to  get  along  in  this  world.  Don't  let 


68  DAVID    OF  'JUNIPER    GULCH 

folks  laugh  at  you.     Send  'em  back  as  good  as    they 
give." 

"But,  Dave,"  she  said,  "it  seems  impolite.  I  wish 
people  would  talk  the  way  they  do  in  books.  Then 
I  could  get  along." 

"O,  bother  the  books,  child,  quit  reading,  and 
learn  to  act  like  other  folks  do.  You'll  be  set  down 
for  a  fool,  if  you  don't." 

Later  he  found  her  in  a  corner  again.  "Now  you 
must  come  out  of  this,"  he  said.  "This  won't  do." 
She  looked  at  him  imploringly,  but  he  dragged  her 
out,  and  took  her  a  merry  journey  around  the  room, 
introducing  her  gravely  to  people  she  had  known  all 
her  life,  and  making  everything  so  irresistibly  funny, 
that  she  was  forced  herself  into  several  witty  re- 
marks, which  were  received  with  applause  that  grat- 
ified David  at  least. 

"Dave,  what  makes  you  so  happy  to-night,"  she 
asked  later  when  they  were  picking  their  way  home 
through  the  muddy,  irregular  street  walks.  He 
stopped,  and  took  her  arm,  and  she  looked  up  to  see 
that  his  face  was  sober  and  pale  in  the  moonlight. 

"Hulda,"  he  said,  "what  account  would  I  be  if  I 
didn't  make  people  laugh?  I'd  be  a  regular  bore.  I 
haven't  got  learning,  and  I  have  to  make  up  for  it 
the  best  way  I  can." 

"But  Dave,"  she  replied  eagerly,  "why  don't  you 
study  and  improve  yourself?" 

"Not  and  rustle  around,  as  I  have  to  do,  to  get  a 
home  and  a  little  start,"  he  returned. 

A  quick  pain  crossed  the  girl's  heart.     He  was  still 


HARDUP    LIFE  69 

waiting  and  working  for  Cis,  and  she    dare    not    tell 
him.     What  could  she  tell,  if  she  dared? 

"I  suppose  I  always  act  as  I  feel,"  she  said  finally. 

"You  can't  do  that,  if  you  want  to  get  on  in  the 
world.  Why  don't  you  rustle  around  and  flirt  with 
•the  teacher?  People  will  talk,  but  they  will  think 
you  are  that  much  smarter."  Hulda  laughed  merrily. 

"I  can  do  better  with  him  than  flirting,  Dave,  I 
am  getting  lots  of  free  instruction  out  of  him." 

"Good-night,  Hulda,"  said  David,  opening  the 
gate. 

"Well,  good-night,  Dave." 

His  merry  whistle  did  not  ring  back  through  the 
clear  air  that  night  as  usual. 

Hulda  found  the  teacher's  assistance  to  be  of  great 
value.  He  only  made  suggestions  here  and  there, 
but  they  were  wisdom  condensed.  The  science  of 
arithmetic  opened  up  magically,  and  her  clouds  in 
grammar  were  cleared  away.  He  would  sit  by  the 
sitting-room  stove  on  cold,  stormy  evenings,  appar- 
ently to  keep  his  feet  warm,  but  in  reality  to  lead 
her  over  a  great  deal  of  ground  in  American  History 
without  much  reading. 

On  clear  days  she  would  go  to  the  schoolhouse, 
and  watch  his  manner  of  teaching  and  explaining. 
Truths  and  theorems  which  she  had  been  reciting, 
parrot-like,  developed  vitality  and  meaning.  The 
teacher  then  gave  her  a  class  of  children  to  instruct 
occasionally,  to  the  secret  delight  of  the  little  tow- 
heads,  who  would  cluster  around  her  on  the  street, 
calling  her  the  new  school-marm;  and  Mr.  Cornman 
frequently  alluded  to  her  as  his  "able  assistant." 


70  DAVID  "OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Meanwhile  Hulda  heard  nothing  from  Cis  Beverly, 
except  that  she  sometimes  learned  from  the  grand- 
parents, that  their  dear  child  was  coming  home. 

Nonie  thrived,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  grew  placidly  at- 
tached to  her;  and  all  their  discussions  about  her 
would  end  only  in  the  conclusion  that  they  could  do« 
nothing  but  wait. 

Once  Mrs.  Hardy  went  over  to  the  Beverly  farm, 
resolved  to  tell  the  old  people  about  it,  and  give  them 
the  child,  but  she  found  Mrs.  Beverly  in  her  bed, 
and  the  old  man  so  feeble,  that  she  dare  not  disquiet 
them  with  such  news.  She  only  went  to  work  to 
make  them  more  comfortable.  She  swept  the  house, 
brewed  some  home-made  medicine,  baked  a  cake, 
and  left  them  better  in  every  way  for  her  visit.  Hulda 
met  her  at  the  front  gate,  for  tea  was  ready,  and 
Nonie  fretting. 

"Never  mind,"  she  said,  when  she  heard  her 
mother's  story,  "its  only  a  burden  to  us,  not  a  trouble, 
and  we  will  carry  the  burden  and  wait. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  TEACHERS'  EXAMINATION. 

The  March  days  were  often  cold  and  windy,  in 
those  upper  foot  hills,  and  on  this  third  of  March, 
although  the  sun  shone  with  glaring  brightness,  light- 
ing up  the  paths  of  snow  in  the  canons  and  under  the 
pines,  yet  the  air  was  keen  and  piercing. 

The  school-girl  hurried  down  the  paths  of  the  hill 
with  the  miscellaneous  wraps  of  the  household  bun- 
dled around  her,  the  boy  buttoned  his  roundabout 
under  his  chin  and  ran.  A  pale,  thin  woman  shut 
her  door  with  a  bang,  and  hurried  to  her  window  to 
see  if  the  stage  might  be  passing.  Hulda,  having 
been  up  several  hours,  was  warm  and  rosy  and  full 
of  spirits. 

Mr.  Cornman  looked  up  from  his  coffee  as  she  was 
tying  on  her  hat,  and  said,  "Don't  be  too  sanguine, 
Miss  Hardy,  you  might  be  frightened  out  of  every- 
thing you  know." 

"Never  fear,"  she  cried,  ''I  will  think  of  something 
to  say." 

The  teacher,  not  having  much  sympathy  with  the 
elasticity  of  youth,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  turned  to 
his  breakfast.  Hulda  kissed  her  mother  and  sprang 
down  the  steps,  and  out  of  the  gate  with  a  swiftness 

71 


72  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

of  motion  that  caused  Hicks  to  pull  up  his  horses  sud- 
denly. Hulda  handed  up  her  reticule,  climbed  up  onto 
the  wheel,  took  the  offered  hand,  landed  onto  the 
seated  by  the  driver,  and  seated  herself,  while  the 
uneasy  horses  started  the  stage. 

Hicks  pushed  the  express  box  under  her  feet,  and 
threw  a  blanket  over  her  lap,  while  Hulda  drew  her 
wraps  closer,  as  the  wind  came  fairly  into  her  face. 
Oh,  the  joy  of  the  box-seat  of  a  stage-coach  behind 
four  horses!  Hulda  was  immediately  transported 
from  the  dull  realm  of  history  and  school-books  to 
the  bright  glad  world  of  her  childhood  and  her  hap- 
pier hours.  That  long,  low  grove  of  young  pines  and 
bushes,  that  lay  along  the  road,  had  been  her  child- 
hood playground.  Under  its  mysterious  shadows  lay 
all  the  ghosts,  and  fairies  and  brownies  of  her  vivid 
imagination.  How  often  had  she  sped  by  at  dusk 
on  winged  feet!  What  uncanny  creatures  were  con- 
demned to  live  under  the  brush-wood  by  the  inven- 
tion of  the  active  brained  children  of  Hardup !  There, 
crossing  the  gulch  was  her  old  rock-walled  playhouse, 
abandoned  now  to  younger  inhabitants.  There  was 
the  same  mossy  bowlder,  upon  which  she  had  given 
many  a  tea  party,  with  slate  rock  for  plates,  pine 
burrs  for  pitchers,  and  acorn  shells  for  cups.  There 
were  the  immovable,  water- washed  lounges  and  chairs, 
soft  as  divans  to  the  merry  inhabitants  of  that  mossy 
house.  There  were  her  favorite  pines,  tall  and 
scraggy,  but  dropping  treasures  of  nuts  every  year. 
There  was  the  hillside  flume  projecting  over  the 
canon,  across  which  Hulda  had  taken  many  a  perilous 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  73 

climb  impelled  on,  by  the  "My 's!"  and  "Oh  My's!"  of 
admiring  companions.  There  were  the  paths  leading 
up  into  the  hills,  where  she  went  for  white  lilies  and 
rarer  tiger  lilies.  There  was  the  spring  where  the 
lady-slippers  bloomed  and  waited  for  the  fairies  to 
use  them.  Listening  to  the  clattering  and  clicking 
of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  hard  road,  the  girl's  mind 
was  busy  with  the  sweet  memories  of  her  happy 
childhood. 

"By  hooky!  you  must  be  dead  gone  on  him!" 
finally  ejaculated  Hicks,  tired  of  her  silence.  "You 
haven't  spoke  since  we  started." 

Hulda  looked  around  with  wide  eyes. 

"Gone  how?  What  do  you  mean,  Hicks?"  The 
driver  laughed,  cracking  his  long  whip. 

"Maybe  you  don't  understand,  young  folks  never 
do."  She  colored  now.  What  if  he  were  alluding  to 
something  he  might  have  found  out  about  her  city 
trip! 

"Blushing,  be  ye?  Well,  good  luck!  But  I'm 
thinking  ye  mount  have  found  someone  a  little 
younger."  This  with  another  sly  look. 

Hulda  was  mystified.  Her  mind  being  filled  with 
formulas  and  rules,  and  the  purest  thoughts  of  youth, 
commonplace  gossip  was  profoundly  obscure.  Fi- 
nally, not  wishing  particularly  to  divine  his  meaning, 
she  said: 

"Be  sure  and  call  for  me  Saturday  night  at  the 
Forest  Hotel.  I  am  going  to  the  Teachers'  Exami- 
nation, you  know."  A  new  light  appeared  on  the  jolly 
driver's  face. 


74  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Yes,  yes,  I  reckoned  so.  Ye  can  work  together, 
ye  know,  and  git  along  first  rate."  Then  the  truth 
dawned  upon  her,  and  she  laughed  outright. 

"Mr.  Cornman!  Why  Hicks,  you're  crazy.  Don't 
you  know  me  better  than  that?"  Then  Hicks  was 
satisfied,  and  threw  off  his  brake,  and  went  flying 
down  the  grade  with  a  relieved  mind. 

But  Hulda  was  disturbed.  The  idea  of  her  name 
being  associated  with  any  one's  in  that  way  was  dis- 
tasteful to  her.  The  thought  of  love  or  marriage  for 
herself  had  never  entered  her  mind.  But  the  gener- 
ality of  common  people  of  the  west  are  vigilant  that 
few  girls  live  long  in  this  state  of  purity.  Aprons 
with  sleeves  are  hardly  discarded  before  the  average 
girl  is  continually  reminded  by  all  classes  and  ages 
that  she  has,  or  ought  to  have,  a  beau. 

Hulda  brushed  her  hair  in  her  little  six  by  seven 
room  at  the  hotel,  and  then  went  up  to  a  big  bleak 
schoolhouse  on  a  windy  hill  where  she  found  seven 
or  eight  applicants  for  teacher's  certificates  gathered 
around  a  hot  stove  in  a  large  room.  She  thought 
the  men  all  reminded  her  of  Mr.  Cornman,  and  the 
women  were  young,  plainly  dressed,  and  pale  and 
anxious-looking. 

The  County  Suprintendent,  a  small,  lame  man 
with  a  kindly  face,  sat  at  the  desk  with  several 
teachers,  constituting  the  County  Board  of  Exami- 
nation, and  they  were  unpacking  large  files  of  printed 
questions  furnished  by  the  State  Board. 

Hulda  went  up  with  her  letter  of  introduction 
kindly  furnished  by  Mr.  Joseph  Cornman.  The  Super- 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  75 

0 

intendent  read  it,  with  a  glance  at  the  girl,  and  said, 
"Very  well,  Miss  Hardy.  Take  your  seat."  One 
of  the  men  stood  up  and  read  the  rules  of  the  exam- 
ination, another  arranged  the  applicants  in  the  seats, 
one  passed  around  the  paper  and  pens,  and  the  ar- 
duous written  examination  began.  The  first  paper 
was  on  history,  and  Hulda  was  delighted  to  note 
that  she  knew  all  the  answers.  She  wrote  rapidly, 
finished  her  paper  before  any  one  else,  and  had  time 
to  look  around  at  her  laboring  companions  A  young 
man  had  come  in  shortly  before,  and  was  seated  at 
the  desk  in  front  of  her.  She  noticed  a  shining  white 
colar,  black  hair  and  a  well  poised  head.  At  that 
moment  some  one  opened  a  door;  a  draught  of  air 
carried  Hulda's  last  written  sheet  over  onto  the 
young  man's  desk.  He  picked  it  up  quickly,  and 
turning,  returned  it  to  her.  His  face  was  clean 
shaven  and  characterized  by  a  firm,  manly,  keenly 
intelligent  expression.  He  was  young,  not  many 
years  older  than  she,  and  Hulda,  feeling  a  sense  of 
companionship,  noticed  him  in  the  pauses  of  her  work. 
He  worked  even  more  rapidly  than  she,  however,  and 
had  even  more  time  to  look  about. 

As  soon  as  a  recess  was  announced,  he  arose  and 
went  to  the  desk,  shaking  hands  with  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  board,  as  if  he  knew  them.  Soon  after 
she  saw  him  with  her  letter  of  introduction  in  his 
hand,  and  he  immediately  came  down  and  spoke  to 
her,  calling  her  by  name.  His  manner  was  brotherly 
and  pleasant. 

"You  are  from    Hardup,  I    see.      We    don't    often 


76  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

have  applicants  from  there.  My  name  is  Edward  La 
Grange;  I  am  teaching  at  Bird's  Flat.  How  are 
you  getting  along?" 

Then  they  seemed  quite  well  acquainted  already. 
He  told  her  that  he  had  a  county  certificate,  but  was 
trying  for  a  State  certificate. 

"I  have  a  little  request  to  make  of  you,  "said  Hulda 
smiling. 

''Certainly,  what  is  it?" 

"Would  you  move  yourself  one  seat  forward?  I 
can  see  across,  and  can  read  your  papers  as  you  pile 
them  up."  He  laughed. 

"Well,  I  have  no  objection.  This  is  your  first,  and 
I  am  willing  that  you  should  profit  by  being  behind 
me.  The  Board  seated  us."  She  opened  her  eyes 
so  wide  that  he  laughed  again. 

"But  I  can't  be  dishonest,"  she  said,  "and  I  hate 
temptation." 

"I  would  not  call  that  being  dishonest, "he  replied. 
But  he  moved  his  papers,  and  the  order  bell  rang. 
She  wondered  if  he  were  annoyed,  but  he  seemed  to 
see  the  humorous  side  of  it,  and  after  he  had  written 
a  sheet  he  carefully  covered  it  with  a  large  white 
handkerchief,  from  which  a  faint  perfume  came  across 
the  desk.  This  process  he  repeated  with  each  fresh 
sheet,  glancing  with  a  smile  to  see  if  she  observed. 
When  the  noon  recess  was  announced,  he  turned 
immediately  to  her. 

"Are  you  stopping  at  the  Forest  Hotel?"  he  asked. 
"Wait  a  moment,  and  I  will  walk  with  you."  Here 
he  was  taking  unquestioned  possession  of  her,  and 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  77 

Hulda  felt  at  ease  with  him,  a  new  sensation  for  her 
with  a  stranger,  and  a  man. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  he  had  introduced  her  to  a 
Miss  Gage  and  a  Mr.  Smith,  and  a  Miss  Cantwell  and 
a  Miss  Fox,  and  all  together,  they  walked  out  into 
the  wind.  Hulda  drew  a  long,  relieved  breath.  It 
was  so  sweet  to  get  out  into  the  air,  and  so  pleasant 
to  be  with  young  people  who  seemed  to  be  some  like 
herself.  The  six  young  people  walked  down  the 
hill  in  couples. 

"And  so  you  were  afraid  my  papers  might  be 
wrong,"  said  La  Grange,  banteringly,  as  the  wind 
struggled  with  Hulda' s  veil,  finally  tearing  it  from 
her  bright  flushing  face. 

"Why,  you  don't  understand  me  at  all,"  she   said. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,  really,  Miss  Hardy.  But  if  you 
would  not  be  dishonest,  why  did  you  want  tempta- 
tion removed." 

"Oh,  but  I  fear  temptation,"  she  said.  "I  needed 
all  my  thoughts." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  he  replied,  reflectively.  "Women  are 
strong  because  they  know  they  are  weak.  While 
I  don't  flee  temptation,  and  fall  into  wrong  because 
I  don't  run  from  it.  Oh,  well,  that's  like  us  men." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"I  don't  believe  you  have  ever  fallen  into  serious 
wrong,  Mr.  La  Grange."  He  laughed  merrily. 

"Well,  I  hope  I  merit  your  good  opinion."  He 
took  her  to  the  door  of  the  hotel.  She  ran  up  to  her 
room. 

"I  am  a  goose,"  she   thought,    tearing  down    her 


78  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

hair,  "I  always  take  things  too  serious,  as  Dave  says. 
Probably  he  is  making  fun  of  me." 

In  the  afternoon  she  saw  that  La  Grange,  who  had 
no  difficulty  with  his  papers,  and  had  plenty  of  spare 
time,  had  been  asked  to  assist  the  Board  with  the 
examination  of  the  papers;  so  that  he  had  no  time 
at  all  to  give  her  further  attention. 

At  noon  on  the  last  day,  as  she  was  walking  up 
the  hill  with  her  usual  rapid  pace,  he  called  and  over- 
took her;  she  was  tired  and  lonely.  She  had  kept 
her  room  and  studied  most  of  the  time  after  hours. 

"I  only  wished  I  knew  how  my  papers  were  coming 
out,"  she  said  to  him  as  they  walked  along.  "I  sup- 
pose you  have  no  right  to  tell  me." 

"I  am  not  supposed  to  know  which  your  papers  are. 
That  would  not  be  considered  fair,"  he  returned, 
looking  at  her. 

"Oh,  to  be  sure,"  apologized  the  girl,  "but  as  you 
are  so  near  my  desk  I  supposed  you  couldn't  help  but 
know." 

"What  if  my  conscience  wouldn't  allow  me  to 
look,"  laughed  La  Grange. 

"I  beg  your  pardon."  She  laughed  too,  and  they 
were  on  very  friendly  and  jolly  terms. 

But  that  was  not  the  truth;  he  knew  all  her  papers. 
The  fact  was  he  had  been  interesting  himself  unduly 
in  the  progress  of  her  work;  a  circumstance  that  gave 
rise,  some  months  later,  to  serious  complications. 
The  last  afternoon  was  long  and  the  papers  were 
difficult,  and  La  Grange  watched  her  with  anxiety 
as  each  new  paper  of  questions  was  handed  her.  The 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  79 

Superintendent  rose  and  said  in  a  weary  tone  that 
as  fast  as  the  candidates  finished  their  papers  they 
were  excused  to  go,  and  that  those  who  were  en- 
titled to  certificates  would  receive  them  by  mail. 

Hulda  worked  carefully  and  slowly  and  the  after- 
noon changed  into  dusk,  and  the  dusk  to  dark,  and 
four  ladies  and  three  gentlemen  were  still  writing. 
Hulda  finished  first;  she  folded  her  last  paper  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and  went  out  quickly,  glad  as  a  freed 
bird.  She  put  her  hat  and  cloak  on  by  the  feeble 
light  of  a  dirty  lamp,  and  opened  the  front  door  to  a 
grateful  current  of  fresh  air.  La  Grange  quietly 
stepped  up  and  filled  the  opening. 

"So  you  are  through,"  he  said.  "How  happy  you 
and  I  ought  to  be.  Don't  you  pity  those  poor  pris- 
oners inside?  I  am  nearly  frozen  waiting."  It  came 
into  her  head,  that  she  would  be  glad  to  have  him 
take  her  to  the  hotel,  but  she  said: 

"Why  do  you  wait  then?"  He  took 'hold  of  her 
arm. 

"Sit  down  on  the  step  here,  and  I  will  tell  you. 
See,  the  moon  is  just  rising!  You  see,  Miss  Hardy, 
there  are  just  eight  of  us  left,  and  we  thought  we 
would  double  up  and  go  to  the  dance.  It  was  ar- 
ranged for  me  to  take  you;  or  rather,  Miss  Hardy, 
in  the  words  of  society,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
your  company?" 

She  was  silent,  and  he  whistled  a  little  tune  softly 
and  rubbed  his  cold  hands,  while  he  waited.  He 
knew  enough  about  Hardup  society  to  know  that  she 
did  not  belong  to  the  dancing  circles.  Then  she  had 


80  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

not  the  graces  or  motions  of  a  girl  who  danced  much. 
She  had  such  a  pure,  innocent  face  and  dressed  so 
plainly,  perhaps  she  had  never  had  opportunities  to  go 
to  dances.  But  this  was  not  so,  for  David  would  have 
taken  her  many  times,  or  brought  her  partners;  but 
Mrs.  Hardy,  a  strict  Methodist,  had  set  her  face  firmly 
against  it.  She  thought  it  very  sinful  to  dance  and 
she  continually  told  her  daughter  so.  Hulda  had  seen 
the  lights  and  heard  the  music  many  times  at  the 
town  hall  of  Hardup,  but  she  had  never  felt  any  de- 
sire to  oppose  her  mother's  opinions. 

But  this  was  all  new  and  different.  La  Grange 
had  been  kind  to  her;  she  wanted  to  be  with  him, 
and  the  other  young  people.  She  was  struggling 
with  what  she  considered  her  first  temptation.  He 
stopped  whistling  and  waited. 

"I  am  sorry  you  asked  me,"  she  said  slowly,  "for  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  go." 

"Don't  see.  Well,  you  don't  have  to  see,"  he  re- 
plied, jocularly.  "You  just  step  out  in  the  dark  and 
depend  on  me.  Don't  disappoint  us  now." 

"I  should  be  disappointed  in  myself  if  1  went." 
She  spoke  so  seriously  and  firmly  that  he  tried  to  see 
her  face,  which  was  in  the  shadow. 

"Is  it  a  matter  of  that  conscience  again?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  sadly,  "mother  has  never  allowed 
me  to  go  to  dances." 

"Well,"  he  said,  rising,  "just  wait  a  moment  till  I 
see  how  they  are  getting  along,  then  I  will  take  you 
down  to  your  hotel,  and  see  that  you  get  some  supper. 
They're  slow  as  time,"  he  said,  returning,  "slow  as 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  81 

time.  Smith  is  pulling  his  hair,  and  Miss  Gage  is 
chewing  her  pencil.  Come,  now,  let  us  reason  to- 
gether." He  was  so  cheerful  and  patient!  But 
Hulda  found  that  he  was  insistent.  He  tried  all  sorts 
of  arguments  and  persuasions  to  induce  her  to  go  to 
the  dance.  "How  do  you  know  it  is  wrong  to  dance?" 
he  urged,  "when  you  have  never  danced?  How  do 
you  know  dances  are  not  properly  conducted  when 
you  never  go?"  She  finally  took  refuge  in  the  state- 
ment that  her  mother  would  be  displeased. 

"That  is  an  excuse,"  he  said,  "and  not  a  reason; 
but  I  will  accept  it.  Come,  let  us  make  a  fight  for 
our  supper." 

The  table-girl  was  in  white  with  red  roses  in  her 
hair,  and  Hulda  did  not  see  the  bribe  he  slipped  into 
her  hand,  to  induce  her  to  spread  them  a  late  lunch 
in  the  corner  of  the  dining-room.  Here  they  fell  into 
a  strain  of  merry  talk,  so  that  he  quite  forgot  that  he 
had  promised  to  go  to  the  dance,  and  suddenly  re- 
membering, left  her  abruptly  at  the  table.  When 
she  was  slowly  ascending  the  stairs,  he  called  to  her 
from  below. 

"They've  gone  and  left  me,  and  I  am  excused  from 
following,"  he  said.  "Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  and 
walk  on  the  street?"  She  turned  with  a  quick  smile 
and  blush  of  pleasure. 

"Will  you  wait  a  moment?"  She  ran  to  her  room, 
dashed  her  face  with  cold  water,  and  came  down  with 
glowing  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes.  The  town  had 
already  begun  the  revelry.  The  streets  were  full  of 
carriages  and  wagons;  a  hilarious  party  had  taken 

Darid  of  Juniper  Gulch    6 


82  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

possession  of  the  hotel  parlor,  and  the  halls  were 
crowded.  Children  ran  freely  up  and  down  the  streets, 
and  couples  walked  back  and  forth  waiting  for  the 
dance  to  begin. 

A  large,  rough,  unpainted  building  used  as  a  public 
hall  and  ball-room  was  heavily  decorated  with  ever- 
greens, and  lighted  with  numerous  lamps  of  all  de- 
scriptions. Doors  and  windows  were  wide  open,  and 
as  soon  as  the  dancing  began,  La  Grange  led  his 
partner  by,  in  hopes  that  she  might  relent  and  wish 
to  enter.  He  stopped  her  by  the  door,  and  she  stood 
erect  watching  the  flying  forms,  charmed  with  the 
music,  the  motion  and  the  gayety,  while  La  Grange 
was  watching  her  with  amusement  and  admiration. 
The  light  shone  full  upon  her  shining  eyes,  and  there 
was  an  unconscious  smile  upon  her  face.  He  gently 
drew  her  arm. 

"Come,  let  us  go  in  a  moment.  Let  me  teach  you 
to  waltz."  Then  all  the  beauty  of  her  face  paled, 
and  she  moved  back  into  the  shadow. 

"O,  no,  do  not  ask  me.  There  will  be  no  time  in 
my  life  for  dancing  any  way."  He  laughed  heartily 
at  her  seriousness,  and  they  moved  on ;  he  was  newly 
pleased  with  her  that  she  had  not  yielded. 

"I  would  like  to  tell  you,  Miss  Hardy,"  he  said, 
"how  much  I  have  done  and  how  much  I  have  danced. 
I  am  not  much  older  than  you.  Pardon  me,  I  am 
only  twenty,  or  thereabouts.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
age,  however;  but  you  have  aright  to  your  opinion." 

"Tell  me  what  you  have  done." 

"Well,  if  it  will  not  be  too    tedious,  I   will.      Sup- 


pose  I  give  you  a  sketch  of  my  life.  In  the  first 
place — "  she  looked  up  at  him  to  see  his  head  held  as 
usual  very  high  and  proud— "I  don't  know  where  I 
was  born  or  how  old  I  am,  or  what  my  name  is."  He 
looked  down  into  her  wide  open  eyes.  "My  foster 
father  came  to  this  country  twenty  years  ago,  At 
Panama  a  large  number  of  steerage  passengers  were 
sick  with  fever,  my  own  parents  being  among  them. 
When  the  steamer  was  to  start,  they  found  my  father 
dead  and  my  mother  dying.  They  would  have  left 
me,  but  a  man  among  the  steerage  passengers  took 
me  in  his  arms,  and  said  he  was  my  uncle.  He  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  me. 

"Arriving  at  San  Francisco  he  left  for  the  mines, 
and  I  don't  think  he  left  his  name  with  the  Steamer 
Co.,  or  took  any  pains  to  find  my  people,  if  I  had 
any.  He  claimed  not  to  know  my  name,  but  he 
loved  me,  and  was  kind  to  me;  and  I  have  only  reas- 
oned it  out  lately  that  he  really  stole  me.  He  went 
from  place  to  place  like  all  miners,  and  after  a  while 
he  married  a  sturdy  western  girl,  and  I  had  a  mother. 
Six  years  ago  my  good  father  died,  and  I  have  had  to 
be  the  father  of  seven  children  that  he  left.  He  left 
us  with  a  home  and  that  was  all.  I  have  worked  by 
the  day  in  the  mines,  chopped  wood,  fiddled  at 
dances,  carried  mail  on  snow  shoes,  and  now  I  have 
taught  for  three  years.  But  I  have  made  my  story 
too  long.  The  moral  is  that  I  always  go  to  a  dance, 
if  there  are  to  be  any  school  trustees  or  their  daugh- 
ters present.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  I  hope  some- 
time to  get  the  Forest  Grove  school." 


84  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"  But  when,  and  where,  did  you  get  your  education  ?" 
interrupted  Hulda. 

UI  haven't  any,"  laughed  La  Grange.  "I  make 
people  think  I  have.  I  studied  nights,  went  to  school 
whenever  I  could,  and  the  rest  I  learned  at  dances,  I 
guess,"  looking  down  at  her  speaking  face.  "I  have 
had  to  study  Latin  nights,  and  study  how  to  be  pop- 
ular daytimes." 

"And  you  have  learned  that  part  well, "  said  Huldla 
warmly. 

"I  go  where  the  people  go,"  he  continued.  "I  love 
the  people  and  I  hope  that  some  time  the  people  will 
love  me,  enough  to  elect  me  to  office  anyway.  I  in- 
tend to  be  a  politician.  I  am  studying  law  to  that 
end.  How  I  would  love  to  get  a  bit  of  power  in  my 
hands." 

"That  is  what  I  never  expect  to  have,"  she  said 
simply. 

"O,  yes,  you  can  marry  a  voter  and  help  me." 

"And  that  I  will  never  do,"  she  cried  earnestly. 

"Why?"     His  tone  was  peremptory. 

"I  can't  understand  the  men.  I  am  afraid  of  them." 

"I  shall  take  you  right  in, "he  laughed,  "I  might 
hurt  you." 

"O,  no." 

"Well,  you  can  understand  this  much  about  me.  I 
will  help  you  every  way  I  can  to  get  a  school.  You 
are  so  good,  you  never  could  get  one  alone." 

"If  I  get  a  certificate,"  she  said.  They  crossed 
over  to  the  hotel." 

"Now,  good-night,"  he  said.  She  gave  him  her 
hand." 


THE  TEACHER'S  EXAMINATION  85 

"I  suppose  you  will  go  to  the  dance." 

"Yes,  for  a  while,"  he  still  held  her  warm  hand. 
"And  you  go  home — ?" 

"Before  to-morrow  night  if  I  get  a  chance." 

"Well,  good-night." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  and  went  slowly  up  the  stairs 
from  the  hallway.  She  turned  at  the  landing.  He 
was  looking  up  at  her,  his  hat  in  his  hand.  She 
blushed  and  said  again: 

"Good-bye." 

"Good-night  and  pleasant  dreams,"  he  said  and  went 
out. 

Hulda  came  down  stairs  the  next  morning  at  the 
early  dawn,  and  ate  breakfast  with  the  laborers.  Be- 
fore she  was  through,  she  heard  Hicks  in  the  hall  in- 
quiring for  her.  She  ran  out.  He  told  her  he  had 
the  job  of  taking  the  musicians  to  Bird's  Flat  for 
another  ball  that  night,  and  he  would  go  around 
through  Hardup  for  her  if  she  wished. 

"Hicks,  you  never  forget  me,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  git  out.  Them  boys'll  be  as  dry  as  chips,  and 
I  have  to  go  to  Hardup  any  way.  Git  your  things, 
girl." 

He  shut  the  band  boys  inside  and  put  her  on  the 
seat,  and  they  were  soon  clattering  out  of  town. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  GREAT  BEREAVEMENT. 

Mrs.  Ellis  slept  late  on  the  morning  of  the  day  that 
she  had  carried  the  basket  down  to  the  country  girl's 
room  at  the  early  hour  of  three  o'clock.  She  then 
thought  that  she  would  not  go  down  until  she  heard 
some  demonstration  from  someone;  but  her  curiosity 
overcame  her  patience,  and  about  ten  o'clock  she 
went  down  to  the  room  she  had  given  the  stranger. 
Hearing  no  sound,  she  opened  the  door  and  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  room  was  vacated.  She  closed  the 
door  with  a  bang,  and  went  about  the  halls  giving 
orders  to  Sam  in  a  higher  tone  than  usual,  and  with 
much  clatter  of  her  keys.  She  was  never  surprised 
at  anything,  but  she  was  annoyed  because  Max  had 
returned  her  trick  with  an  equally  smart  one.  He 
had  evidently  been  there  and  spirited  the  whole  thing 
out  from  under  her  nose  in  broad  daylight.  He  had 
manifestly  taken  the  girl  into  his  confidence  and  found 
a  cheaper  way  of  carrying  out  his  deviltry  than  em- 
ploying her  to  do  it.  She  shook  her  curls,  and  re- 
solved to  think  no  more  about  it.  At  eleven  o'clock 
Royse  found  Sam  making  the  bed.  He  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  unfastening  his  overcoat. 

"Sam,    where's   the    lady?"      Sam    shrugged    his 
shoulders  and  patted  the  pillows,  his  face  like  a  mask. 


A    GREAT    BEREAVEMENT  87 

"I  no  know." 

"Yes,  you  do,  you  devil;  where  is  she?"  Sam 
grinned. 

"She's  gone,  all  gone."  He  took  up  his  pails  and 
started  out. 

"Come  back,  you  grinning  idiot.  Where's  the 
girl?" 

"I  no  know.  She  all  gone;  every  thing  gone.  Gas 
burn  all  night.  No  gettee  dollar." 

"Damn  the  dollar!"  said  Max  vigorously;  and  he 
strode  down  the  stairs. 

He  had  been  left;  that  was  all;  the  country  girl  had 
seen  through  him  and  gone  home.  But  he  had  plenty 
on  his  mind  to  attend  to,  and  he  gave  the  matter  no 
further  thought. 

It  was  some  months  before  he  came  again  to  this 
down  town  lodging  house.  The  halls  had  been 
lighted  for  the  evening.  The  floors  were  bright  with 
new  rugs,  and  the  wood  work  shone  with  new  varnish. 
Max  Royse,  Land  Agent, .  went  slowly  up  to  the 
upper  rooms.  He  was  much  more  dignified  than 
formerly.  He  had  improved  in  health,  weight,  ap- 
pearance, and  general  self-respect.  He  had  prospered 
too;  a  successful  speculation  having  made  him  many 
thousand  richer.  He  was  president  of  a  political 
club,  had  something  to  do  with  a  paper,  and  he  had 
altogether  lifted  himself  above  his  former  level.  His 
clothes  were  becoming,  and  his  overcoat  was  a  mar- 
vel of  fineness  and  finish.  His  tall  hat  had  never 
before  been  so  glossy  and  spotless. 

He  came  to  the  private  rooms  of  Mrs.  Ellis;    went 


88  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

in  without  knocking,  shut  the  door,  and  sat  down. 
A  clear  silvery  voice  rang  through  the  hall. 

"Sarn,  who  was  that  went  in  my  room?" 

Soft,  celestial  slippers  retreated  down  a  by-hall, 
and  very  soon  the  owner  of  the  voice  swept  into  the 
room  with  her  usual  grace  and  dignity.  Her  dress 
was  perfect.  It  was  a  trailing  silk  tastefully  trimmed 
in  jet. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  bowing  but  not  giving  him 
her  hand,  "I  was  not  expecting  so  grand  a  caller. 
Allow  me  to  take  your  hat.  Take  this  new  easy 
chair." 

"Thank  you,"  he  returned  coolly.  "I  think  I  will, 
and  seeing  you're  home  I  will  light  my  cigar."  She 
brought  him  a  match,  and  after  lighting  his  cigar 
leisurely,  he  took  from  an  inner  pocket  two  theater 
tickets,  and  handed  them  to  her. 

"Go?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  them  critically,  laid  them  down,  and 
left  the  room.  When  she  returned  he  said  through 
the  smoke: 

"Sam  cook?" 

"Of  course." 

"I  never  have  anything  to  eat  except  when  I  come 
here,"  he  said. 

He  sat  calmly  looking  into  the  bright  grate  fire 
waiting  foi  her  to  entertain  him.  She  drew  up  a 
wide,  cushioned  chair,  sat  down  and  leaned  back  in 
easy  elegance. 

"Well,"  she  said  after  a  pause,  "what  are  you 
passing  yourself  off  for  now?  Are  you  the  respect- 
able and  bereaved  widower?" 


A    GREAT    BEREAVEMENT  89 

He  looked  up  and  nodded  slightly. 

"But  that  was  three  months  ago  by  the  papers, 
Max,  I  went  to  the  church  myself.  I  don't  often  go 
to  funerals  in  high  society.  Don't  look  so  solemn, 
you  frighten  me."  He  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire, 
flung  up  his  arms  and  began  to  look  more  like  himself. 

"Minerva,  she  was  a  terrible  loss.  I  don't  care  if 
I  am  a  devil,  it's  hard  to  get  along  without  her.  She 
was  good  and  smart,  and  respected  by  every  one. 
Why  she  could  almost  run  an  Orphan  Asylum  all 
alone,  she  had  so  much  influence.  She  was  so  highly 
respected  and  religious  that  I  could  be  off  on  a  sort 
of  vacation  all  the  time." 

"Which  you  were." 

"Well,  I  was  always  home  Sundays,  and  she  never 
knew  what  a  wretch  of  a  husband  she  had.  Poor 
girl!  She  left  the  children  in  my  care,  and  made  me 
promise  to  take  them  to  church  every  Sunday." 

Mrs.  Ellis  laughed  sarcastically. 

"And  you  do?" 

"Astonishing  as  it  is,  I  do.  Don't  make  fun  of 
me.  I  thought  a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Royse." 

She  yawned  audibly  with  a  lace  handkerchief  over 
her  mouth. 

"What  became  of  that  country  girl?"  she  asked, 
after  a  pause. 

"Which  one?" 

"O,  that  one  that  came  here  that  night."  Max 
laughed  heartily. 

"O,  she  made  up  her  mind  I  was  a  fool,  and  ran 
away." 


90  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Didn't  you  take  her  away?" 

"No,  'pon  my  word  and  honor,  I  never  saw  her 
again." 

She  believed  him  and  ventured  to  make  one  more 
step  in  the  dark. 

"Max,  where  is  that  two  hundred  dollars  you  prom- 
ised me?" 

To  her  astonishment  he  took  out  a  fat  purse  and 
handed  her  the  money.  They  were  both  silent  a 
while. 

"And  little  Cis  Beverly.  What  became  of  her  at 
last?" 

"O,  she  got  on  all  right,  I  got  her  a  nice  room,  and 
went  up  the  next  day  and  told  her  the  baby  died  of 
croup.  She  cried  a  little,  but  she  soon  lost  faith  in 
me  after  that.  She  found  out  who  I  was.  She  left 
the  place  and  I  lost  her.  I've  been  trying  to  hunt  her 
up;  she  was  a  nice  little  thing,  and  if  her  record's 
all  right,  I'd  as  lief  marry  her  as  not." 

Mrs.  Ellis  threw  up  her  hands. 

"O,  you  make  me  nervous.  Let  her  alone.  She 
had  a  home  in  the  mountains,  and  I  suppose  she's 
gone  there.  She's  too  good  for  you,  any  way." 

Here  Mrs.  Ellis  rose  and  opened  the  door,  and  Sam 
appeared  with  a  tray  of  dishes.  After  they  had 
lunched,  she  put  on  a  stylish  gray  velvet  opera  bon- 
net, a  rich  opera  cloak  with  pink  silk  lining,  and, 
promptly  at  eight,  these  two  fine  looking  and  elegantly 
dressed  people  entered  a  private  box  at  the  Baldwin 
Theater. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DAVID'S  PLOTTING. 

The  morning  of  Hulda's  return  from  the  examina- 
tion at  Forest  Grove,  she  sat  in  the  little  kitchen, 
where  her  mother  was  washing  dishes,  giving  her  an 
animated  account  of  every  incident  of  her  trip.  A 
minute  description  of  La  Grange,  however,  was  lost 
in  the  general  description  of  all. 

"And  mother,"  she  cried,  "some  of  the  questions 
were  so  hard  I  saw  the  members  of  the  Board  look- 
ing them  up.  They  didn't  know  them." 

"And  perhaps  you  will  find  that  you  didn't  know 
them,  either,"  said  the  mother  reprovingly. 

"Even  so,"  said  a  grave  voice  behind  her.  She 
looked  back  startled.  The  Hardup  teacher  was  smil- 
ing over  her  head  in  his  peculiar,  sarcastic  manner. 
He  had  come  in  the  back  door,  and  held  in  his  hand 
a  spray  of  the  first  cherry  blossoms.  He  dropped  it 
into  the  girl's  lap.  She  snatched  it  up  with  an  ex- 
clamation. Ah,  the  shy,  beautiful  things,  to  come 
out  while  she  was  gone !  She  held  the  blossoms  to 
her  pink  cheek  with  one  hand,  and  gave  the  other  to 
the  teacher,  saying  simply: 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Cornman." 

"I  see  you  haven't  changed  any,  since  you  went 

91 


Q2  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

away,"  he  said,  his   face   relaxing  into   an    admiring 
expression,  as  he  looked  down  upon  her. 

"I  am  just  as  egotistical,"  she  answered,  dropping 
her  eyes.  He  went  out  as  quietly  as  he  came  in. 
How  he  annoyed  her  with  his  implied  criticism !  She 
was  reminded  by  his  appearance,  that  her  success,  if 
she  had  succeeded,  was  due  to  his  help. 

"He  thinks  I  am  such  a  goose!"  she  exclaimed  to 
her  mother. 

"He  thinks  enough  of  you  to  bring  you  flowers," 
said  the  mother  with  an  apparent  insinuation  in  her 
emphasis.' 

"Oh,  mother!"  Then  she  thought  of  what  the  stage 
driver  had  said.  "I  hate  him." 

"Hush,  hush,  child,  you  owe  him  a  great  deal." 

Hulda  snatched  a  red  shawl  and  hood  that  hung 
behind  the  door,  and  ran  out  into  the  orchard.  How 
sweet  it  was,  to  get  with  one  bound,  away  from  such 
suggestions  into  the  warm  sunshine,  and  the  bright- 
ness and  the  beauty  of  the  orchard!  She  wanted  a 
little  run  after  her  three  days  confinement.  Snatch- 
ing a  hammer  she  first  nailed  several  loose  pickets 
back  into  place,  then  went  out  by  her  favorite 
Orchard  path,  to  a  grove  of  young  pines  on  the  slope 
beyond.  The  cold,  brushy  branches  of  the  low,  thick 
pines  whipped  her  form,  as  she  pushed  her  way 
through,  and  the  grasses  dampened  her  feet.  But 
she  loved  to  crush  the  grass  and  smell  the  strong 
odor  of  the  pines.  She  had  missed  this  walk  for  a 
long  time;  she  had  been  so  busy  with  her  studies. 
She  was  eager  to  see  if  there  were  some  wild  flowers 


DAVID'S  PLOTTING  93 

on  the  sunny  hill  beyond  the  pines.  She  had  always 
greeted  the  first  blossoms  in  the  spring.  She  had  a 
fancy  that  they  would  know,  if  she  were  not  there. 
To  seek  out  the  first  blossoms  and  press  them  to  her 
lips  was  to  her  a  keen  delight,  the  more  because  it 
was  of  the  nature  of  stolen  pleasures. 

The  women  of  Hardup  were  not  advocates  of  out 
door  sports  and  pleasures,  and  Hulda  knew  that 
whenever  her  form  was  seen  on  the  hill-side,  she  was 
alluded  to  as  the  "Tom  boy."  The  leaders  of  society 
in  Hardup  affected  paler  cheeks  than  she  had,  and 
young  ladies  could  not  ruffle  their  dresses  according 
to  the  prevailing  styles,  and  run  the  hills  also.  And 
so,  fearing  ridicule,  this  red  cheeked  girl  hid  her 
love  of  hills  and  trees  and  flowers.  But  she  kept  her 
tryst  with  all  the  flowers  as  they  gayly  followed  each 
other  through  the  cool  spring  grasses.  The  wild 
flowers  were  her  teachers,  and  like  them  she  kept 
more  and  more  away  from  the  beaten  paths  of  Hardup 
life. 

She  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  she  would 
know  her  fate  from  the  County  Board  of  Examina- 
tion by  mail  on  the  following  Monday  night.  Monday 
was  a  long  day,  despite  her  exertions  to  shorten  it. 
She  brought  out  all  the  soiled  clothes  and  turned  the 
kitchen  and  back-porch  into  a  laundry.  Then  she 
cleaned  windows,  and  hung  fresh  muslin  curtains  in 
the  sitting-room.  Night-fall  found  everything  about 
the  little  home  in  perfect  order.  She  had  intended 
to  watch  for  the  stage,  and  when  it  came,  to  run 
down  to  the  office,  for  if  the  news  was,  that  she  had 


94  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

failed  she  could  bear  it  better  alone.  But  just  at 
sundown  David  put  his  great  square  shoulders  and 
laughing  face  into  the  kitchen,  and  she  knew  by  his 
Sunday  coat  that  he  had  come  to  spend  the  evening. 
That  meant  extra  work  for  supper.  Then  the  teacher 
came  in,  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  said  he 
would  be  going  down  town  after  tea,  and  he  would 
bring  up  the  mail. 

Hulda's  dark  eyes  snapped  wrathfully  at  him  as  he 
went  out  of  the  room,  which  drew  a  laugh  from  David. 
"I  suppose  the  old  man  inspects  your  mail,"  he  said, 
as  Hulda  compressed  her  lips  and  spread  on  the  tea 
plates  with  considerable  clatter. 

"Ah,  well,"  he  continued,  "I  suppose  you'll  be  leav- 
ing yaour  kind  guardian  for  a  school  in  the  back 
woods." 

"The  farther  back  the  better!"  cried  the  girl. 

"Yes,"  went  on  her  tormentor,  "and  it  won't  be  a 
week  before  that  antiquated  old  mummy  up-stairs  will 
be  around  borrowing  my  mule  to  go  and  see  you." 

Hulda  brandished  the  carving  knife  over  his  head. 

"See  here,  girl,  don't  kill  me  with  that  dull  old 
thing.  Let  me  sharpen  it  up  for  you.  Where's  your 
whet-stone?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "you  may  as  well  be  of  some  use, 
Dave." 

She  brought  him  her  box  of  knives  and  was  bending 
over  him  showing  him  just  how  she  wanted  her  chop- 
ping knife  sharpened,  when  the  door  opened  softly, 
and  the  teacher  entered  with  his  usual  catlike  tread. 
Mr.  Cornman,  from  his  habits  of  commanding  and 


DAVID'S  PLOTTING  95 

practicing  order  and  quiet  in  the  school-room,  had  be- 
come a  constant  illustration  of  all  his  rules.  His 
voice  was  usually  the  first  indication  of  his  presence 
in  a  room.  Hulda  started  and  flushed  with  nervous- 
ness when  she  heard  his  voice. 

"Quite  a  domestic  scene,"  he  said,  rubbing  his 
hands  over  the  stove.  David  glanced  up  and  saw  an 
expression  back  of  the  teacher's  cold  smile  that  he 
did  not  altogether  like.  Hulda  went  quickly  out  to 
the  kitchen  to  bring  in  the  tea.  David  finished  the 
knives,  and  then  leaned  back  against  the  wall  in  a 
mood  of  unusual  silence  and  thoughtfulness;  he  did 
not  speak  till  Mrs.  Hardy  placed  his  chair  and  beck- 
oned him  to  the  tea  table.  Evidently  some  new  pot 
of  humor  was  on  to  brew. 

Tea  went  on  in  silence,  and,  after  unusual  delay, 
it  seemed  to  Hulda  the  teacher  arose,  slowly  removed 
his  faded  dressing  gown  and  put  on  his  coat  and  over- 
coat. Then  he  put  on  his  overshoes  in  the  hall,  and 
came  again  into  the  room  to  roll  his  wool  muffler 
around  his  neck.  Hulda  watched  his  preparations 
behind  the  tea  pot  with  aching  nerves.  She  could 
have  flown  to  the  office  and  back  while  he  was  buck- 
ling his  overshoes. 

David  sat  in  a  corner,  whistled  softly,  and  patted 
his  knees  in  a  most  aggravating  manner.  Finally  the 
school-teacher  went  out.  Hulda  followed  him  to  the 
door,  and  saw  him  fairly  out  of  the  gate.  Then  she 
returned,  slammed  the  door  behind  her,  and  threw 
herself  against  it,  in  an  attitude  of  hopeless  patience. 
David  came  out  of  his  corner. 


96  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"I  give  him  just  two  hours  at  that  rate,"  he  said. 
"Come,  Hulda,  you  poor  martyr,  let's  wash  the 
dishes  and  have  a  game  of  chess  before  he  gets  back. 
Won't  he  make  an  agreeable  husband,  though?  You 
can  go  to  Jericho  and  back  while  he  is  turning 
around." 

"Yes,"  cried  the  girl,  carrying  out  her  arms  full  of 
dishes,  "but  he  won't  get  married.  He'll  never  get 
ready." 

"Don't  you  be  too  sure, "said  David,  following  her 
out  with  the  rest.  "I  bet  I  can  make  the  old  fellow 
propose  to  you  in  less  than  three  months." 

"Me?" 

"Yes,  you." 

"O,  Dave,  you  can't.      How?" 

"Easy  enough.  I'll  make  him  think  I  want  you 
myself." 

"Which  you  do,"  she  cried,  falling  in  with  the  joke 
and  laughing  merrily. 

After  that  it  became  quiet  in  the  little  house.  The 
dishes  were  put  away,  Mrs.  Hardy  sat  sewing  where 
the  light  was  best,  and  Hulda  had  forgotten  her 
troubles  watching  David's  queen.  A  low  shuffle  at 
the  front  door  announced  Mr.  Cornman's  return. 
He  came  in  as  methodically  as  he  went  out.  He  re- 
moved his  overshoes  with  care  and  placed  them  out- 
side. Then  his  overcoat,  muffler  and  hat  were,  one 
at  a  time,  removed  and  hung  in  place  on  the  rack. 
He  carefully  smoothed  his  hair,  then  came  into  the 
room,  closed  the  door  softly  with  the  aid  of  both 
hands,  and  seeing  nothing  to  further  delay  him,  pro- 


DAVID'S  PLOTTING  97 

duced  from  his  inner  pocket,  a  long,  yellow  envelope. 
Hulda  sprang  forward  and  snatched  it,  but  it  was 
again  snatched  and  David  held  it  high  over  her 
head. 

"Quit  tormenting  the  poor  girl,"  pleaded  Mrs. 
Hardy. 

"Who's  been  tormenting  her?"  said  David. 

Hulda  bit  her  lip,  then  sat  down  over  the  chess 
board. 

"It's  your  move,  Dave."  David  dropped  the  letter 
in  her  lap,  and  carefully  removed  the  chess  board. 
Then  Hulda  sprang  up  and  waved  a  bit  of  crisp  buff 
paper  in  the  air.  Cornman  looked  at  it  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"It's  a  First  Grade  County  Certificate,"  she  cried. 

She  dropped  it  in  her  mother's  lap  and  ran  out  of 
the  room.  David  found  her  a  little  later  leaning  over 
the  front  gate,  quietly  shedding  tears  of  relief  and 
joy,  against  her  old  red  shawl. 

"Well,  good-night,  Hulda,"  he  said,  "you're  all 
right  now." 

"Dave,"  she  whispered,  "wait." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Dave,  you  mustn't  make  so  much  fun  of  the 
teacher.  It  was  by  his  help,  you  know,  that  I  suc- 
ceeded." 

"Oh,  bother!  you'd  have  got  it  any  way." 

"No,  I  wouldn't.  Now  don't  ridicule  him  to  his 
face.  He's  not  young  like  us,  Dave." 

"Oh,  well ,  if  you  really  mean  it,  I'll  quit—" 

"For  always?" 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    ^ 


98  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

David  was  striding  away,  his  hands  in  his  pocket. 
He  turned  back  and  whispered,  "Till  to-morrow." 

There  was  no  use  trying  to  manage  David.  But 
for  the  next  month  David  managed  Hulda  quite  to 
his  satisfaction.  He  declared  that  she  needed  a  rest 
from  her  books,  and  several  times  a  week  he  appeared 
at  the  cottage  to  take  the  rather  unwilling  girl  to 
some  social,  "sing"  or  meeting  of  the  "Dime  Society." 

And  the  society,  which  these  gatherings  constituted 
in  Hardup,  opened  its  arms  kindly  to  the  young  woman 
just  awakening  from  the  lethargy  of  girlhood.  She 
had  achieved  considerable  local  distinction  for  her 
success  before  the  Board  of  Examination,  and  some 
of  the  good  matrons  in  town  openly  favored  what  they 
chose  to  consider  her  engagement  to  David,  for,  ac- 
cording to  their  ideas,  marriage  with  a  good  honest 
man  was  much  better  than  "teaching  school,"  as  they 
expressed  it.  And  so  Hulda  had  many  invitations  to 
come  and  spend  the  afternoon,  and  bring  her  mother 
and  stay  "till  after  tea." 

Hulda,  in  the  meanwhile,  by  the  advice  of  Mr. 
Cornman,  sent  her  applications  here  and  there  to  the 
trustees  of  country  schools.  But  some  never  em- 
ployed young  teachers,  some  never  employed  women, 
others  had  sent  East  for  teachers,  and  so  there 
seemed  to  be  but  little  chance  for  her. 

"Well,  never  mind,"  she  said  to  her  mother,  "I'll 
take  up  the  carpets  and  clean  house,  and  by  that 
time  something  may  happen." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CHERRY  VALLEY. 

It  was  on  one  Monday  morning  in  the  last  week  of 
April,  that  Hulda  stood  on  the  little  back  porch  of 
the  cottage,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  her 
white  arms  plunged  into  a  tub  of  foamy  suds. 

The  sun  shone  brightly  across  the  clean  floor,  and 
a  view  into  the  kitchen  showed  that  order  had  been 
established  there  before  the  washing  began.  The 
birds  sang  in  the  fruit  trees  that  brushed  against  the 
wall  of  the  house.  Bruno,  the  quiet  old  dog,  sat  on 
the  step  wagging  his  tail,  uneasily  intent  on  watching 
some  pigs,  that  were  hunting  around  on  the  outside 
for  a  weak  place  to  get  in  the  orchard  fence.  He 
looked  at  Hulda  anxiously,  with  his  ears  erect,  begg- 
ing for  permission  to  show  his  dislike  of  the  intrud- 
ers. But  the  girl  was  intent  on  her  own  thoughts. 

The  studies  of  the  long  winter,  and  the  social 
pleasure  of  the  spring  with  David,  were  all  over,  and 
life  with  her  was  now  uneventful.  It  was  a  vacation 
in  the  school  and  the  teacher  was  away.  David  had 
gone  on  his  usual  round  of  spring  prospecting.  In 
these  quiet  days,  more  than  before,  Hulda  had  been 
thinking  of  Cis  Beverly  and  her  long  silence.  She 
and  her  mother  had  talked  it  all  over  many  times  by 
the  seclusion  of  the  evening  fireside.  She  had  once 

90 


IOO  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

walked  out  to  the  Beverly  home,  to  see  if  the  old 
people  were  comfortable,  and  to  elicit  information  if 
she  could.  She  found  the  old  couple  happy  over  a 
letter  they  had  received.  Cis  had  sent  them  some 
money,  and  said  she  was  well  and  working  in  a  candy 
store,  and  would  come  home  when  she  had  saved 
more  money.  The  letter  was  a  long  rambling  mix- 
ture full  of  love  and  remembrances  to  all  the  farm 
pets;  even  the  birds  that  nested  in  the  porch  were 
not  forgotten. 

Hulda  had  looked  at  the  mild  old  people  sitting  so 
calmly  by  the  fire  talking  of  their  chickens,  their 
garden,  the  cow  and  fruit  trees;  and  then  she  rose 
with  a  sigh,  resolved  to  carry  her  heavy  secret  alone, 
rather  than  disturb  their  peace.  » 

"Law,  now,  ye're  not  goin'  till  I  make  ye  a  cup 
of  tea,"  had  said  the  little  grandmother,  dropping  her 
knitting  onto  the  cushion  of  the  chair,  and  crowning 
her  face  with  glasses  on  top  of  her  white  cap. 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.      Stop  and  have  a    bite 
with  us,  now  do,"  had  also    urged    the   grandfather. 
"Ma,  I'll  go  right  down  cellar  and  get  you  a    can    of 
cherries." 

So  Hulda  had  staid,  and  was  quite  comforted  by 
the  trust  and  patience  of  the  good  old  people,  and  the 
homely  comforts  of  the  quiet  little  rooms. 

She  passed  her  opinion  on  the    new    calf,  climbed 

into  the  loft  and  pitched  down  sufficient  hay    to   last 

several  weeks,  set  some  hens  for  grandma,  and   then 

hurried  home  with  her  problem  unsolved. 

.This  morning  in  April,  as  she  turned  the    strange 


CHERRY   VALLEY  IOI 

secret  over  in  her  mind,  there  was  no  trace  of  any 
shadow  of  it  in  her  bright  eye  and  healthful,  glowing 
face.  She  could  hear  the  clatter  of  the  sewing 
machine  in  the  bedroom,  and  her  mother's  voice 
singing  contentedly,  "There's  peace  in  the  valley  of 
blessing  so  sweet",  and  she  was  glad  that  her  mother 
seemed  to  feel  no  extra  worry,  on  account  of  the 
child.  The  mother  had  cared  for  it  uncomplainingly. 
It  had  been  so  long  since  she  had  rocked  a  child  to 
sleep,  and  she  was  so  lonely  at  times  when  Hulda 
was  at  her  books,  she  had  grown  to  have  something 
of  a  motherly  feeling  for  the  little  waif,  for  such  she 
really  believed  it  to  be.  So  that  neither  Mrs.  Hardy, 
singing  in  the  bedroom  over  some  blue  calico  shirts 
she  was  making  for  David,  or  Hulda,  absorbed  in  her 
thoughts,  heard  the  noise  of  a  wagon,  the  click  of 
the  gate,  and  a  knock  at  the  front  door. 

The  stranger  tapped  a  few  times,  then  walked 
around  to  the  back  door  and  came  upon  the  pleasant 
picture  of  Hulda,  now  pining  up  the  long  braid  of 
hair  that  had  fallen  over  the  tubs. 

Hulda  heard  a  step  and  turned  to  see  a  plain, 
kindly  looking  man  with  sandy  hair  and  beard,  and 
he  was  looking  at  her  with  an  amused  twinkle  in  his 
eye. 

"Does  the  widow  Hardy  live  here?" 
"Yes,"  said  Hulda  simply,  "will  you  come  in?" 
She  led  the  way  into  the  sitting  room,  the  stranger 
saying  as  he  darkened  the  door.    "I  believe  it  is  Miss 
Hardy  I  have  come  to  see." 

Hulda' s  heart  bounded  suddenly,  but  she  spoke  to 


102  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

her  mother,  and  the  two  women  waited  for  the 
stranger  to  explain  his  errand.  He  placed  his  hat 
on  the  table,  took  the  proffered  chair  and  began  to 
feel  about  the  pockets  of  his  coat,  as  if  he  intended 
to  produce  a  letter.  But  he  either  failed  in  his  search, 
or  abandoned  it,  for  he  presently  said: 

"My  name  is  Woods.  I  live  in  Cherry  Valley  and 
have  come  to  see  if  the  young  lady  doesn't  want  to 
teach  our  school.  We've  just  started  our  district. 
We've  got  thirteen  or  fourteen  scholars.  You've 
been  recommended  to  us,  and  if  you  want  to,  come 
and  try  it." 

"Try  it?"  said   the  girl,  "I  shall  be  delighted." 
"I've  no  doubt  you'll   try,"  said    Mr.  Woods.      "I 
like  the  looks  of  you.      I'm    glad   you    know  how  to 
wash, and  if  you'll  wash  up  some  of  those  young  'uns, 
1  won't  care." 

They  all  laughed,  and  Hulda  felt  some  acquainted 
with  the  leading  trustee  of  the  Cherry  Valley  school; 
the  next  Saturday  she  rode  away  with  him  in  the 
spring-wagon. 

Cherry  Creek  came  out  of  a  mountain  canon,  and 
formed  itself  in  a  pretty  valley,  sufficiently  wide  to  be 
divided  into  several  good  farms  with  rich  garden  land 
on  the  flats,  wheat  fields  on  the  slopes,  and  pastur- 
age on  the  hills  above.  It  was  a  long,  rambling  road 
of  fifteen  miles  from  Hardup  to  Cherry  Valley,  up 
and  down  a  long  grade,  through  a  canon,  around  a 
mountain,  and  finally  through  a  hilly  country  covered 
with  manzanita  bushes,  scrub  oaks  and  scattering 
pines. 


CHERRY   VALLEY  103 

Hulda,  entertained  by  the  pleasant  and  somewhat 
jovial  Mr.  Woods,  and  full  of  thoughts  of  her  sudden 
change  and  unexpected  good  luck,  took  but  little 
notice  of  the  road  and  mountain  scenery,  only  notic- 
ing it  when  they  descended  to  Cherry  Valley  and  fol- 
lowed the  road  along  the  creek. 

The  road  ran  along  by  a  rail  fence  for  a  mile,  and 
then  stopped  where  the  fence  changed  to  one  of  hewn 
pickets.  Hulda  could  see  through  the  rows  of  an 
orchard  the  form  of  a  long,  low,  unpainted  building. 
Immediately  she  heard  children's  voices,  one  of  them 
shouting,  "Mamma,  mamma,  they've  come."  Three 
little  boys  ran  down  the  grassy  path,  and  mounted 
the  fence  in  an  inquisitive  row.  "There's  your  first 
school,"  said  Mr. Woods,  as  he  helped  Hulda  to  the 
ground.  "Hi!  you  little  rascal,  jump  down  from  that 
fence  and  carry  these  bundles.  Here's  one  for  each 
of  you.  Now  scamper  and  show  the  teacher  the 
way." 

Two  ran  like  startled  deer  to  the  house,  and  the 
oldest,  a  self-possessed  lad  of  nine  years,  swung  open 
the  gate  for  Hulda,  and  looked  up  inquiringly  into  her 
face  as  they  walked  in.  The  girl  was  not  used  to 
children  familiarly,  and  she  was  trying  to  think  of 
something  to  say  to  the  child.  The  boy  kept  by  her 
eyeing  her  from  head  to  foot,  evidently  only  to  gratify 
his  own  curiosity.  There  was  something  on  his 
mind;  and  finally  he  turned,  walking  backward,  so 
that  he  could  see  her  fairly,  and  broke  out  with:  — 

"Teacher,   be  you  goin'  to  lick?" 

Hulda  could  not  recover  herself  sufficiently   to  an- 


104  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

swer  this  astonishing  question,  but  a  little  woman  in 
a  dark  calico  dress  flew  around  the  corner.  She  was 
a  dark  haired  woman  with  a  kindly  face  and  gentle 
voice,  and  a  breezy,  cheery  way,  that  won  the  girl's 
love  and  confidence  at  once.  She  took  Hulda' scold, 
gloved  hands,  and  kissed  her  as  if  she  had  known 
her  always.  Then  she  led  her  around  the  building 
where  a  long  porch  ran  the  length  of  the  house. 
Through  one  of  the  several  doors  opening  into  it, 
they  entered  the  family  sitting-room,  where  a  fire 
blazed  cheerily  in  the  fire-place,  for  it  was  a  cool 
dusk  after  a  windy  day. 

"Don't  you  know,"  said  little  Mrs.  Woods,  draw- 
ing out  a  large  rocker,  "I  am  so  glad  you  have  come, 
even  if  it  wasn't  to  teach.  I  suppose  Mr.  Woods  has 
told  you,  that  this  is  the  only  place  to  board.  I  like 
it  here  ever  so  much,  but  I  do  get  lonesome.  I  used 
to  have  such  nice  neighbors  back  in  Indiana." 

The  young  girl  had  not  yet  learned  the  art  of  open- 
ing a  lively  convesation  about  nothing,  so  she  said 
simply,  "I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  much  company." 
But  Mrs.  Woods  answered  hopefully: 

"We  shall  not  worry  about  that,  Miss  Hardy. 
There  now,  go  away,  all  of  you,"  she  continued  to 
the  three  little  flaxen  heads  that  appeared  in  the 
doorway. 

"Papa's  bringing  the  trunk,"  said  the  eldest,  hop- 
ing the  item  of  news  would  make  an  excuse  for  his 
presence.  Heavy  steps  were  heard  outside,  and 
when  the  trunk  appeared,  Hulda  discovered  that  the 
room  allotted  to  her  was  a  new  addition  that  had  been 


CHERRY   VALLEY  105 

made  by  siding  up  the  end  of  the  porch.  Mrs.  Woods 
showed  her  the  small  apartment,  and  Hulda  was 
charmed  with  the  novel  room.  The  door  opened 
onto  the  porch,  and  the  window  had  a  pretty  view  of 
the  hills.  Mrs.  Woods,  herself,  had  lined  and 
papered  the  room,  the  bed  was  snowy  white,  and  a 
large  braided  rug  covered  the  clean  rag  carpet. 

Hulda  closed  the  door,  while  Mrs.  Woods  drew  the 
three  boys  away,  and  she  knelt  and  unlocked  her 
trunk,  thankful  that  she  had  found  so  acceptable  a 
home.  There  was  a  place  behind  the  door  to  hang 
her  dresses.  She  placed  upon  the  tiny  table  by  the  low 
window  the  books  she  had  brought  with  her,  a  Latin 
grammar  and  lexicon,  Caesar  and  Virgil,  and  four 
well-worn  blue  volumes  of  poems,  the  works  of  Mrs. 
Browning  and  Mrs.  Hemans.  These  four  blue  vol- 
umes had  been  her  companions  from  childhood.  Mil- 
ton, Tupper,  and  Tennyson,  she  had  read  as  tasks 
set  by  her  mother,  and  she  had  neglected  the  Shakes- 
peare Mr.  Cornman  had  charged  her  to  study,  to  read 
over  and  over  the  lines  of  Mrs.  Browning,  that  were 
full  of  thoughts  she  could  understand.  Now  as  she 
felt  the  first  pang  of  loneliness,  she  took  one  of  the 
blue  volumes  and  laid  it  against  her  cheek.  But  she 
was  calm  and  unemotional  on  the  threshold  of  her 
new  future,  and  as  unwarned  and  unprepared  for  the 
common  troubles  and  sorrows  of  a  girl's  life,  away 
from  home,  as  poor  Cis  Beverly  when  she  shook  her 
curls  on  the  streets  of  the  great  city. 

The  mental  food  furnished  by  Mrs.  Browning,  how- 
ever delicately  served,  did  not  meet  the  needs  of  a 


106  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

young  mind  in  this  new  and  unformed  country.  No 
one  enters  life  prepared  for  it.  But  whatever  weak- 
ness she  felt  then,  was  speedily  comforted  by  this 
little  blue  book  laid  against  the  red  bloom  of  her 
cheek,  and  a  swift  flitting  through  her  mind  of  the 
sweet  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Browning. 

Then  there  came  a  little  step  and  a  timid  knock  at 
the  door,  then  a  louder  knock  and  a  boy's  voice  call- 
ing, "Teacher,  supper's  ready."  Hulda  opened  the 
door  to  three  little  serious  faces  that  faded  away  in 
the  dark,  and  she  followed  them  through  the  sitting- 
room  into  a  plain,  bare  little  dining-room. 

Alex,  the  eldest  and  the  boldest,  proudly  drew  a 
chair  for  her  to  the  round  table,  set  for  tea,  and  then 
passed  into  a  further  room  from  which  she  heard  his 
voice  in  a  loud  whisper,  "She's  in  there." 

Mrs.  Woods  came  in  with  covered  dishes  in  her 
hands,  and  the  boy  came  back  and  took  his  stand 
where  he  could  command  the  best  view  of  the  object 
of  his  curiosity. 

Mr.  Woods,  red  and  fresh  from  his  wash-pan  ab- 
lutions, came  in  leading  the  second  boy,  also  rosy  and 
fresh. 

"Miss  Hardy,  what  do  you  think  of  this  boy  for  a 
scholar?"  he  said,  lifting  him  up  and  placing  him  in 
his  chair,  where  the  child  dropped  his  head  and  cov- 
ered his  eyes  with  his  fingers.  The  father  then 
dragged  in  the  last  one. 

"This,"  he  said,  crowding  him  into  a  high  chair, 
which  he  had  outgrown,  is  our  four  year  old  Trum- 
ball,  Trummy  tor  short.  It  won't  be  long  till  he  can 
go  £o  school. " 


CHERRY   VALLEY  1 07 

Trummy  hid  behind  his  tin  plate,  which  he  refused 
to  put  down  till  finally  compelled  by  his  mother. 
Alex,  the  eldest,  needed  no  introduction,  for  he 
promptly  slid  into  a  chair  at  the  teacher's  side,  watch- 
ing her  all  the  time  with  restless  eyes,  and  only  pre- 
vented from  talking  by  the  remanding  glances  of  his 
mother. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Woods  were  so  kind  and  defferential 
to  the  young  teacher,  and  so  cheerful  withal,  that 
Hulda  began  to  feel  a  higher  estimation  of  herself, 
and  a  strength  and  dignity  equal  to  the  demands  of 
her  position,  came  to  her  aid. 

A  strength  a  little  tried,  when  Alex,  unable  longer 
to  contain  himself,  cried  out: 

"The  Dormses,  they  said  they  didn't  want  no  Yan- 
kee teacher." 

But  she  joined  Mr.  Woods'  laugh,  and  relieved 
Mrs.  Woods'  embarrassment  by  her  merry  com- 
posure. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Woods,  with  her  motherly  manner, 
put  Hulda  into  the  rocking  chair  before  the  sitting 
room  fire,  built  more  for  cheer  than  for  warmth;  a 
bright  lamp  was  placed  on  a  round  table  near  her, 
and  she  felt  at  home  as  the  family  gathered  around. 
They  might  have  been  her  own  home  folks,  so  easily 
did  they  adapt  themselves  to  the  presence  of  a 
stranger. 

Alex  brought  his  book  and  slate,  his  marbles,  and 
a  box  of  much  treasured  rock  specimens,  to  the 
teacher's  lap;  then  he  would  have  given  her  a  com- 
plete description  of  all  the  horses,  pigs,  and  chickens 


I08  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

on  the  place,  but  his  mother  remanded  him  to  the 
corner  to  amuse  his  brothers,  while  she,  with  a  little 
coat  to  patch,  took  the  post  of  honor  by  the  guest. 

Mrs.  Woods  was  one  of  those  pleasant,  plain  wo- 
men, whose  prettiness  consists  mainly  in  the  real 
goodness  that  predominates  in  the  expression  of  the 
face  and  the  general  manner.  Hulda  watched  her 
with  admiring  eyes,  as  she  deftly  ran  her  needle  in 
and  out,  darning  each  little  hole  or  spot;  and  Mrs. 
Woods,  glancing  in  the  pauses  of  her  work,  was  not 
unmindful  of  the  attractiveness  of  the  girl  by  her  side, 
who  folded  her  hands  awkwardly,  as  if  unaccustomed 
to  inaction;  and  yet,  who  bore  herself  in  her  girlish 
dress,  with  graceful  dignity.  Hulda  had  been  train- 
ing her  hair  to  correspond  with  her  new  honors,  and 
it  now  lay  in  a  great  coil  on  top  of  her  head,  with- 
out art  or  form,  looking  as  if  it  might  fall  any  mo- 
ment on  her  shapely  shoulders. 

In  the  two  years  Mrs.  Woods  had  been  in  her  new 
foot  hill  home,  she  had  found  few  congenial  people 
among  her  scattered  neighbors,  and  she  regarded  the 
coming  of  a  teacher  to  board  with  her,  as  a  happy 
break  in  her  monotonous  life.  She  had  hoped  to  see 
an  older  person,  but  the  girl  had  such  a  thoughtful, 
though  girlish  face,  that  she  at  once  felt  drawn  to 
her. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  something  about  the  people  here, 
and  the  children?"  she  asked,  hesitatingly.  "I  know 
it  would  help  you.  Well,  there  is  the  Dorms  family." 
Just  then  Mr.  Woods  tramped  across  the  dining-roorn 
and  looked  in  ready  to  join  the  family. 


CHERRY    VALLEY  IOQ 

"Don't  tell  her  about  the  Dormses,  she'll  find  that 
out  soon  enough,"  he  said.  Mrs.  Woods  looked  up 
with  a  frown  broken  by  a  quick  smile. 

"Abram,  did  you  feed  the  calves?  I  left  the  milk 
on  the  stove."  Abram' s  face  fell  a  full  length. 

"I  forgot  it, slick  as  a  whistle.  Alex,  come  and  help 
father  with  the  calves." 

Alex  followed  his  father  and  Mrs.  Woods  con- 
tinued: 

"You  see  the  Dorms  family  are  democrats  and  they 
will  send  five,  and  the  Bates  are  republicans,  and 
they  will  send  six.  They  are  neighbors,  and  have 
trouble,  of  course,  about  stock,  and  between  the 
boundary  lines  and  politics,  even  the  children  war 
when  they  meet  each  other." 

Hulda  opened  her  eyes  roundly;  this  was  discour- 
aging information. 

"But  I  hope  they  will  behave  at  school.  Buck 
Dorms  is  nineteen,  and  Millie  Bates  is  sixteen,  and 
such  a  big,  overgrown  girl !" 

Here  Abram  again  interrupted  the  conversation  and 
drew  a  chair  to  the  circle.  He  had  just  seated  him- 
self, when  his  wife  snapped  a  thread  and  looked  up. 

"Did  you  put  in  the  lambs?     It  might  shower." 

Evidently  Abram  was  forgetting  the  chores.  Com- 
pany was  a  rare  event,  so  isolated  were  they  on  the 
large  farms  in  the  days  before  Cherry  Valley  became 
a  solid  greenery  of  fruit  trees.  Mr.  Woods  raised 
his  hands  with  an  expression  of  despair ;  then  he  turned 
to  Alex. 

"Sonny,  can't  you  take  the  lantern  and  put  the 
lambs  in  the  shed  for  father?" 

Jjf 
*  01 


HO  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Alex  came  forward  quickly,  proud  of  being  consid- 
ered of  so  much  utility  before  the  teacher,  yet  he 
stood  at  the  door  hesitating.  Hulda  thought  of  the 
usual  child-fear  of  the  dark.  She  sprang  up  with  ani- 
mation. 

"Do  let  me  go,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  see  the  lambs." 

Alex  was  joyfully  relieved,  and  the  two  went  out 
together  across  the  grasses  and  clover  in  the  orchard, 
Hulda  carrying  the  lantern,  and  the  boy  increasing 
in  self-importance  at  every  step.  Three  little  feeble 
lambs  were  taken  from  the  clover  beds  and  shut  un- 
der shelter,  then  the  eager  boy  took  his  companion 
into  the  barn,  showing  her  the  horses  and  colts,  and 
entertaining  her  with  an  unbroken  stream  of  anecdotes 
about  the  family  pets. 

"We're  going  to  ride  Mary  and  old  Block  to  school," 
he  said,  "till  Lila  and  Dick  get  broke.  Can  you 
break  horses?  Millie  Bates  can." 

Hulda  kept  her  consciousness  of  inferiority  to  her- 
self. She  had  never  had  an  opportunity  to  learn  to 
ride  any  kind  of  a  horse.  But  after  breakfast  the 
next  morning,  she  told  Mrs.  Woods,  and  this  good 
woman  immediately  arranged  to  give  her  some  in- 
struction in  riding.  Abram  brought  "Mary  and  old 
Block"  up  to  the  porch,  the  side-saddle  was  put  on 
Mary,  and  Hulda  was  mounted  by  Mr.  Woods,  with 
many  instructions.  Mrs.  Woods  strapped  a  blanket 
onto  "Old  Block,"  put  her  foot  into  her  husband's 
palm,  sprang  lightly  on  the  horse  and  started  him  at 
once  down  the  path  and  out  into  the  open  road.  Mary 
followed  her  mate,  and  Mrs.  Woods  stopped  .to  give 
the  new  rider  further  instructions. 


CHERRT  VALLEY  III 

They  proceeded  slowly  up  the  green,  level  valley, 
across  the  bottom  lands  where  the  grain  was  thick 
and  high,  over  the  shallow  creek  and  up  a  slope,  till 
they  came  to  a  little,  new,  pine  school-house  set  on 
the  rocky  brow  of  the  hill.  They  dismounted  here, 
and  opened  the  unpainted  door,  and  glanced  in  at  the 
rude  furniture  and  rough  walls.  But  it  seemed  all 
good  and  pleasant  to  the  young,  ambitious  girl.  It 
was  a  situation,  and  a  chance  to  earn  something.  So 
she  pleased  Mrs.  Woods  by  praising  everything,  and 
they  remounted  and  rode  down  the  hill. 

Mrs.  Woods,  in  turn,  praised  Hulda's  ability  to 
learn  to  ride  so  quickly,  and  when  she  grew  more  at 
home  in  the  saddle,  they  urged  the  horses  to  a  gallop. 
She  was  lifted  from  her  saddle  at  the  house  by  Mr. 
Woods,  with  many  expressions  of  approval,  and  the 
next  morning  she  went  off  like  an  old  rider  on  Mary 
with  Alex  and  Trummy  on"Old  Block",  and  the  tin 
lunch  pails  in  the  horns  of  the  saddles. 

After  Mr.  Cornman's  full  instructions,  Hulda  was 
at  home  at  once  in  her  little  school.  The  Dorms 
family  did  not  come  at  first,  for  the  reason,  so  it  was 
rumored,  that  the  new  clothes  absolutely  necessary 
for  their  appearance  in  public  had  not  been  com- 
pleted by  their  toiling  mother. 

So  the  six  "Bateses,"  the  three  "Joneses,"  the  two 
"Woodses"  and  several  barefooted  children,  who 
came  from  different  directions  over  the  stony  hills, 
constituted  the  little  school,  upon  which  Hulda  con- 
centrated her  mind.  Millie  Bates  was  a  plump,  rosy- 
cheeked  girl  who  took  slowly  to  her  books,  said  "yes, 


112  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

mam"  to  all  questions,  and  spent  much  of  her  time 
looking  dreamily  from  the  windows.  This  young  girl, 
whose  only  social  advantages  were  country  dances, 
and  whose  literature  consisted  of  her  school-books 
and  the  Waverly  magazine,  was,  notwithstanding, 
somewhat  in  advance  of  her  serious-eyed  teacher  in 
the  experiences  that  usually  make  up  a  young  wo- 
man's life. 


CHAPTER  X, 

THE    RIDE. 

"You  just  wait  till  the  Dormses  come.  Won't  we 
have  fun  then?"  said  Alex,  from  behind  Trummy,  on 
the  back  of  old  Block,  one  afternoon  in  May,  as  they 
were  riding  home  from  school. 

Hulda  smiled;  she  was  not  sure  that  the  activity 
whatever  it  was,  would  be  fun  to  her.  She  playfully 
tapped  old  Block  with  her  whip,  and,  while  the  boys 
galloped  on  ahead,  she  fell  .into  an  uneasy  train  of 
thought.  A  month  from  home,  and  only  one  letter 
from  her  mother.  The  isolated  Cherry  Valley  people 
did  not  hear  often  from  the  postoffice  at  Bird's  Flat, 
and  Hulda' s  one  letter  had  been  bare  of  news.  She 
was  thinking  much  these  long  fair  days  of  her 
mother's  care  at  home,  and  the  nameless  little 
stranger  in  her  arms;  so  with  a  sigh  of  loneliness 
she  slid  wearily  from  the  gentle  Mary,  at  the  kitchen 
porch  of  the  farmhouse.  At  once  Mrs.  Woods,  with 
flour  on  her  hands  and  face,  ran  to  bring  her  a  letter. 
With  her  riding-skirt  falling  about  her  feet  and  stand- 
ing against  the  shoulder  of  patient  Mary,  a  strangling 
bunch  of  wild  flowers  falling  to  pieces  from  her  throat, 
Hulda  bent  her  flushed  face  over  the  single  white 
sheet  of  paper.  At  once  her  eyes  were  fastened  on 

113 
David  of  Juniper  Gulch    8 


114  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

these  lines,  and  she  kept  reading  them  over  and  over: 

"Could  you  possibly  come  home  for  Saturday  and 
Sunday?  Grandpa  Beverly  just  went  by  and  he  said 
Cis  would  be  home  to-morrow.  You  must  be  here 
to  see  her." 

A  new  shadow  of  care  fell  over  the  girl's  heart. 
The  mystery  would  be  explained,  but  would  not  the 
cause  of  her  presence  in  the  city  have  to  be  explained  ? 
That  was  something  she  liked  less  and  less  to  think 
of.  Hulda  removed  the  saddle  and  bridle  from  Mary, 
who  turned  at  once  into  the  green  clover  of  the  or- 
chard, and  the  girl,  with  a  grave  face,  went  into  the 
clean,  tidy  kitchen  where  Mrs.  Woods  was  kneading 
a  mass  of  white  dough.  Hulda  had  learned  to  tell 
her  vexations  to  this  bright,  patient  woman,  and  it 
was  easy  now  to  tell  her  that  she  must  be  at  home 
on  Saturday. 

Mrs.  Woods  knit  her  brows.  "Is  it  so  very  seri- 
ous?" she  said.  "We  will  talk  it  over  at  supper.  Go 
and  rest  now,  child,  you  look  tired." 

Mr.  Woods  also  came  to  the  table  with  knit  brows. 
It  was  fifteen  miles  to  Hardup,  and  over  a  mountain 
road.  "If  you  could  get  to  Bird's  Flat  by  eight 
o'clock  Saturday  morning,"  he  said,  "you  could  catch 
a  stage,  but  there  is  no  stage  back  till  Monday.  If 
I  didn't  have  to  use  the  team  in  the  orchard,  I'd  let 
you  have  Mary." 

Mrs.  Woods  laughed.  "Mary!  It  would  take  her 
forever.  Mary  can't  go." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  cried  Alex.  "Let  her  ride  Lila. 
Lila's  fast  enough." 


THE    RIDE  115 

"She'd  throw  the  teacher  too,  fast  enough,  added 
his  father.  Hulda's  heart  bounded.  If  she  could 
only  ride  that  beautiful  pony  all  the  way  to  Hardup, 
to  fly  over  the  hills  and  mountains,  straight  to  the 
solution  of  the  secret  that  lay  upon  her  young  heart. 
Mrs.  Woods  saw  the  sparkle  of  her  eye,  and  the  sud- 
den color  on  her  cheek. 

"Maybe  Lila's  gentler  than  we  think,"  she  said  to 
her  husband.  "I  might  ride  her  to-night  and  see." 

So  that  evening,  in  the  moonlight,  the  beautiful 
black  Lila  was  led  up  to  the  porch,  and  the  saddle 
adjusted. 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  as  he  slowly  tightened 
the  girth,  "I  bought  her  of  some  stockmen,  she  may 
have  been  ridden  more  than  we  think.  But  she  goes 
off  like  a  flash;  easy  as  a  rocker  to  ride,  but  shy  as 
a  deer.  But  if  you  can  learn  to  ride  her  you'd  be 
safe  enough." 

Mrs.  Woods  came  out  and  threw  the  riding  skirt 
over  the  saddle.  Lila  started  and  looked  wildly  at 
it;  but  dropped  her  head  to  take  a  bit  of  sugar  from 
the  hand  of  her  mistress.  Then  Mrs.  Woods  sprang 
lightly  into  the  saddle,  and  her  husband  led  the  horse 
about  the  yard. 

"All  right,"  said  Mrs.  Woods,  after  a  while,  "open 
the  gate."  Alex  ran  and  opened  the  gate,  and  Lila 
danced  out,  held  with  a  firm  rein  by  her  fearless  rider. 

Thursday  night  Hulda  was  mounted,  and  after  an 
hour's  training  Mr.  Woods  thought  it  safe  enough 
for  her  to  start  away  alone  on  Lila  to  Hardup. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "you  can    leave   here  by    four 


Il6  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

o'clock  Friday,  and  get  within  five  miles  of  home  by 
night,  and  you'll  not  be  afraid  to  go  the  rest  of  the 
way  by  moonlight." 

So  the  rude  schoolhouse  was  locked  at  three  o'clock 
on  Friday,  and  when  the  teacher  reached  the  farm- 
house with  the  boys,  a  warm  lunch  was  waiting  for 
her,  and  Lila  was  fretting  at  her  halter.  "Keep  cool, 
now,"  said  Mr.  Woods,  as  he  put  Huldain  the  saddle. 
"Don't  get  excited,  hold  her  in,  the  first  mile,  if  you 
can,  then  let  her  go  like  the  wind  till  she  gets  tired; 
then  you'll  have  no  trouble." 

But  Hulda  was  excited  as  she  held  Lila's  tossing 
head,  and  she  forgot  to  say  "Good  by"  to  her  friends, 
as  the  horse  pranced  through  the  gate,  and  bounded 
up  the  gravelly  road.  But  she  settled  herself  into 
her  saddle  with  a  feeling  of  exultation.  It  was  to  be 
her  first  free,  unrestrained  horseback  ride,  and  a  feel- 
ing of  freedom  hightened  her  spirits  and  dispelled 
her  fear.  One  feels  a  new  possession  of  the  heavens 
and  earth  when  mounted  on  a  swift  and  easy  mo- 
tioned horse. 

In  an  hour  the  quiet,  studious  teacher  of  Cherry 
Valley  was  changed  into  a  glowing  spirited  creature, 
dashing  through  the  young  pines  of  the  divide.  Reach- 
ing a  long,  level  stretch  she  began  to  remember  her 
instructions,  and  reined  Lila  to  a  walk.  Lila,  already 
wet  and  foaming,  dropped  her  pretty  head,  and  for 
a  mile  or  two  went  slowly  and  quietly  along  the  high, 
level  divide,  Hulda,  looking  over  the  hill  tops  into 
the  forest  below,  and  noting  the  flowers  under  the 
brush-wood  by  the  road.  Then  she  noticed  the 


THE    RIDE  117 

lengthening  shadows,  and  with  a  word  Lila  broke 
into  a  swift  gallop,  and  her  hoof  beats  on  the  hard 
road  sounded  clearly  through  the  quiet  woods. 

It  was  all  a  delight  to  Hulda;  she  had  no  thought 
of  fear  or  loneliness.  She  would  like  to  have  such  a 
ride  every  day  on  Lila.  She  had  a  wild,  undefined 
feeling  that  it  would  be  better  to  ride  on  and  on  over 
the  great  Sierras,  and  far  away,  than  to  go  on  with 
the  conditions  of  her  life.  But  it  was  but  a  moment- 
ary vision  of  fear.  Home  was  sweet  and  life  was 
precious. 

After  a  while  she  began  to  descend,  and  the  pines 
stood  taller  and  closer,  and  shapeless  masses  of  rock 
stood  up  about  her.  After  winding  around  the  slopes 
she  came  suddenly  to  a  point,  and  descended  a 
graded  road  on  the  mountain  side. 

She  was  startled  a  moment  to  notice  how  long  the 
shadows  were,  but  the  sunlight  still  lay  bright  and 
broad  on  the  other  side  of  the  canon. 

The  solitude  of  the  canon  impressed  her,  as  .Lila 
dropped  into  a  rapid  walk  down  the  grade.  There 
was  no  sound  of  wind,  or  call  of  bird,  and  even  the 
squirrels  had  disappeared  from  the  gathering  shadows. 
A  path  came  into  the  road  from  a  depression  or  valley 
in  the  mountain  side.  She  knew  that  these  trails 
led  into  other  roads,  out  to  some  settler's  lonely 
cabin,  or  up  to  some  red,  yawning  deserted  shaft. 
A  longing  of  her  childhood  came  to  her  to  know  what 
was  at  the  end  of  the  trail,  but  there  was  no  time  for 
prospecting,  so  she  hurried  Lila,  and  presently  they 
were  at  the  turn  at  the  bottom  of  the  grade.  Here 


Il8  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

a  little  stream  of  water  ran  into  a  log  trough,  then 
formed  a  pool  in  the  road,  and  went  over  the  bank 
into  the  ferns  below.  But  there  was  something 
about  the  trough  that  displeased  Lila,  perhaps  the 
scent  of  some  wild  beast  of  the  forest;  any  way  she 
shied  suddenly,  and  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  rock  wall 
that  supported  the  road.  Hulda  whirled  her  back  to 
a  place  of  safety,  but  Lila  was  sure  there  was  some- 
thing uncanny  about  the  trough,  and  refused  to  ap- 
proach it. 

Y^t  she  was  thirsty  and  decided  to  reach  for  a  little 
quiet  pool  of  water  down  among  the  rocks.  It  was  a 
long  stretch  for  her  neck,  and  finally,  with  a  little  jerk, 
the  rein  parted  in  Hulda 's  hand,  the  ends  falling  on 
either  side  into  the  water.  Before  the  inexperienced 
rider  had  time  to  move,  Lila,  frightened  at  the  dang- 
ling reins,  sprang  back,  turned  and  started  on  the 
road  home  in  a  wild  run.  Her  rider,  now  equally 
frightened,  leaned  forward  and  clung  to  Lila's  mane, 
helplessly.  Lila  became  more  excited,  running  faster, 
and  then  Hulda  saw  that  her  saddle  was  loose,  and 
she  knew  her  balance  was  not  good.  She  thought 
of  jumping  in  some  way,  if  she  could  only  free  her 
foot  from  the  stirrup.  She  was  trying  to  catch  her 
reins,  and  she  kept  her  mind  sufficiently,  to  decide, 
that  if  she  could  not  catch  them,  that  she  would 
jump,  where  the  trail  came  into  the  road.  There 
might  be  a  house  near  there.  She  saw  the  spot  ahead 
where  she  had  decided  to  jump,  and  in  trying  to  free 
her  foot,  she  felt  her  saddle  turn  under  her.  The 
picture  of  her  awful  peril  flashed  across  her  mind. 


THE    RIDE  119 

Just  at  that  moment  a  large,  white  horse,  bearing 
an  erect  rider  came  out  of  the  tree-shaded  trail  to  the 
road.  The  rider  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment.  He 
had  just  time  to  catch  Lila's  flying  reins,  to  regain 
his  feet,  and  catch  Hulda  in  his  arms,  as  the  saddle 
turned  under  her.  Momentarily  stunned  by  her  fright, 
Hulda  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up  at  the  calm, 
smiling  face  of  Edward  La  Grange. 

"There,  I  knew  you  had  better  sense  than  to  faint," 
said  this  calm  young  man.  "Now  just  steady  your- 
self a  moment  while  I  get  your  foot  out  of  that  trap. 
What  are  you  riding  this  kind  of  a  horse  without  a 
stirrup-slipper  for?  There  don't  tremble  so,  girl,  sit 
down  on  the  bank  and  catch  your  breath  while  I  tie 
the  horse." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  came,"  stammered  the  girl 
as  she  sat  down  on  the  bank  and  leaned  against  a 
tree.  She  was  very  weak. 

"Well,  I  think  so.  You  might  have  escaped  with 
a  broken  ankle,  you  might  have  not  escaped  at  all." 
He  was  adjusting  Lila's  saddle,  and  tying  her  by  the 
halter  to  a  slender  tree.  Then  he  picked  up  Hulda' s 
fallen  hat  and  sat  down  by  her.  She  was  pinning 
up  her  disordered  braids. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  house  only  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  up  this  trail,  and  if  you  need  anything  I  will 
take  you  up  there.  Perhaps  all  you  need  is  a  rest." 

She  looked  gratefully  at  him. 

"Yes,  I  am  only  frightened.  But  oh,  Mr.  La 
Grange,  what  can  I  say  to  you."  He  stopped  her  by 
a  warm  clasp  over  her  cold,  trembling  hand. 


120  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Don't  say  anything.  Get  you  a  slipper  before 
you  ride  again,  and  be  sure  and  keep  your  saddle 
girth  tight.  Where  are  you  going  any  way,  you  are 
a  long  way  from  Cherry  Creek." 

Hulda  started  up  in  alarm. 

"Why,  I  am  going  to  Hardup.  I  must  hurry.  See 
how  late  it  is  getting.  O,  dear,  can  I  ever  get  on 
that  horse  again?" 

La  Grange  laughed. 

"You  will  have  to  get  on  that  horse  again,  if  you 
don't  want  to  spoil  her.  You  will  have  to  rest  till 
you  are  over  your  fright.  Just  take  it  cool.  I  will 
go  a  ways  with  you.  I  am  breaking  horses  for  one  of 
my  trustees,  and  I  can  ride  this  horse  all  night  if  I 
want  to  "  Hulda  went  and  patted  Lila'sneck.  She 
was  grateful,  though  she  knew  not  how  to  say  so. 

"You  see,"  went  La  Grange,  "I  have  a  good  many 
trades,  as  I  told  you.  Bird's  Flat,  where  I  teach,  is 
only  seven  miles  from  here.  I  shall  get  home  soon 
enough.  By  the  way,  if  you  feel  like  it,  suppose  you 
tell  me  how  your  horse  got  frightened." 

Hulda,  her  arm  over  Lila's  neck  told  her  story, 
while  she  looked  at  La  Grange  sitting  at  ease  on  the 
bank,  twirling  his  whip,  his  dark  hair  thrown  back  in 
shining  waves,  his  strong  face  in  relief  against  the 
green  foliage  of  the  bank.  Something  came  to  her 
that  was  new  in  her  young  life.  A  conciousness  of 
happiness  in  the  present  moment.  Her  gratitude  to 
La  Grange  was  mingled  with  a  sense  of  trust  and 
restfulness  in  his  presence.  Further  than  that,  al- 
though an  unusually  intellectual  girl,  she  could  not 


Hulda  has  a  narrow  escape. 


T);ivid  of  Juniner 


THE    RIDE  121 

analyze  her  sensations.  She  did  not  know  that  an 
impression  was  then  stamped  upon  her  heart,  that 
would  never  wear  away. 

We  seldom  come  to  Love's  estate  gradually;  it  is 
more  like  a  sudden  sunrise  that  shows  us  a  fair  and 
delightful  land,  and  though  we  may  never  enter  into 
that  land,  yet  the  warmth  of  the  sunlight  never  passes 
away.  And  Hulda,  in  her  innocence,  opened  her 
heart  to  the  sweetness  and  light,  and  the  lonely  forest 
seemed  suddenly  fair  and  cheerful.  Her  existence, 
that  had  always  seemed  to  be  looking  forward  to 
something,  seemed  to  be  plethoric  with  present  con- 
tent, but  she  did  not  know  why. 

La  Grange  came  and  petted  Lila  and  praised  her 
beauty,  then  he  led  her  up  to  the  bank  and  mounted 
Hulda  without  allowing  her  a  moment's  hesitation. 
Hulda  was  reassured  by  his  composure.  He  sprang 
onto  his  horse,  and  they  galloped  down  the  grade 
and  up  on  the  other  side. 

The  sun  was  just  taking  his  last  touches  from  the 
tops  of  the  pines.  Oh,  the  gladness  and  gayety  of  that 
ride,  and  the  wild  beauty  of  the  night !  The  light 
words  and  bits  and  laughter  mingled  musically  with 
the  clattering  of  the  hoof  beats  on  the  hard  road. 

Then  the  horses  dropped  to  a  walk  and  fretted 
their  heads  against  the  firmly  held  bridles.  The 
moon  was  gleaming  down  the  road,  as  they  came  to 
the  top  of  the  grade.  The  feeling  of  friendliness  be- 
tween the  two  young  people  grew  as  they  watered 
their  horses  at  a  farmer's  road-side  well.  After  that, 
houses  and  small  orchards  appeared  more  often,  and 


122  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

they  were  nearing  the  saucer-like  country  where  lay 
the  town  of  Hardup. 

La  Grange  drew  rein,  as  they  came  around  the 
point  of  a  hill,  and  they  could  see  the  humble  roofs 
of  Hardup,  among  the  trees. 

"Now,  good  night,"  he  said.  "Be  sure  and  have 
your  saddle  all  right  when  you  start  Sunday.  I  hope 
we  will  meet  again."  He  extended  his  hand  from 
the  saddle.  "I  have  enjoyed  my  ride.  Goodnight." 

She  had  only  time  to  say  "Good  night"  over  his 
hand,  and  he  was  gone,  and  as  she  rode  on  the 
dream  light  on  her  girl's  heart  was  as  changefully  be- 
witching as  the  full,  glamourous  moonlight  on  the  little 
sleeping  valley. 

Lila  and  her  rider  came  swiftly  down  the  slope, 
over  the  creek,  through  the  quiet  streets  and  up  to 
the  little  house  where  two  lights  awaited  her  home 
coming, — one  in  the  west  bedroom  where  her  mother 
sat,  the  other  in  the  upper  front  gable,  where  Joseph 
Cornman  sat  listening  for  some  sound  announcing  the 
expected  daughter  of  the  house.  But  he  was  listen- 
ing for  wagon  wheels;  so  Hulda  tied  her  horse,  and 
came  around  to  the  back  door  and  into  her  mother's 
room.  Her  mother  came  and  kissed  her  quietly  with- 
out emotion.  It  was  not  her  way  to  make  any  ex- 
citement over  anything. 

"You  are  late,  Hulda,"  she  said,  how  did  you 
come?  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  here,  if  you  could. 
But,  my!  how  you  have  changed!  Teaching  does 
you  good,  daughter." 

Hulda  threw  off  her  hat  and  gloves.  She  laughed, 
glowing  with  health  and  vigor. 


THE    RIDE  123 

"Everything  does  me  good,  mother.  O,  I  am  so 
hungry!  What  am  I  going  to  do  with  my  horse?" 

The  Hardup  teacher  had  come  softly  to  the  door, 
and  heard  her  last  words.  He  offered  to  take  her 
horse  to  the  livery  stable.  Hulda  went  out  with  him. 
She  loved  Lila,  and  she  almost  hated  to  have  a 
stranger  touch  her;  she  gave  her  reluctantly  to  Mr. 
Cornman,  who  thought  her  altogether  too  gay  a 
horse  for  an  amateur  rider;  then  the  girl  ran  into 
the  house,  glad  to  be  alone  with  her  mother. 

"Have  you  seen  Cis?  Has  she  taken  Nonie?"  was 
her  first  eager  question. 

"I  saw  her  at  the  postoffice  a  moment  yesterday," 
said  the  mother.  "I  drew  her  to  one  side  and  told 
her  the  baby  was  well,  but  she  looked  at  me  wild, 
and  said,  'Your  cousin's  baby,  I  suppose.  I  heard 
about  it.'  Then  I  said,  ' Hulda  will  be  home  Satur- 
day.' 'Oh,'  she  said,  'then  I'll  be  over  early  to  see 
her.'" 

"Well,  well!"  ejaculated  Hulda.  "How  did  she 
look,  mother?" 

"Very  pretty  and  nice,  and  she  behaves  well. 
Hush,  now!  he  might  be  back  and  hear  us.  Come, 
let  me  get  you  something  to  eat,  daughter,  it's  nine 
o'clock." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

CIS    BEVERLY. 

Hulda  awoke  the  next  morning  fom  a  dull,  dream- 
less state  with  a  premonition  of  evil  on  her  heart. 
Yet  when  she  had  roused  herself,  the  image  of  La 
Grange  came  before  her  eyes,  and  she  sprang  out  of 
her  low,  old  fashioned  bed,  so  close  to  the  roof,  with 
a  sudden  flush  on  her  cheek.  Life  was  somehow 
growing  brighter  and  dearer.  Then  she  thought  of  the 
Hardup  people.  She  would  be  proud  to  show  them 
how  dignified  and  mature  she  had  grown.  Then  she 
thought  of  the  pines,  and  all  at  once,  a  run  through 
the  orchard  and  a  dash  into  the  woods,  seemed  the 
sweetest  thing  in  life.  She  crept  downstairs  quietly, 
and  went  out  into  the  starry  morning  twilight. 

The  grass  was  long  and  thick  in  the  orchard,  for 
her  mother  had  not  tended  to  the  plowing.  She 
parted  the  low,  odorous  boughs  and  went  into  the 
pine  thicket.  She  was  a  dull,  bashful,  dreamless  girl, 
when  she  had  shaken  the  light  snow  from  these  boughs 
in  the  past  winter,  and  now  she  was  so  spirited  and 
full  of  thought.  She  loved  the  wood  with  a  new 
affection.  She  was  not  alone  there — there  was  a 
thrill  at  her  heart,  a  touch  on  her  hand;  and  the 
vision  of  an  erect  head,  a  proud  bearing  and  a  fear- 

134 


CIS    BEVERLY  125 

less  eye,  haunted  her  closer.  Then  she  smiled  over 
her  silly  fancy,  dashed  under  the  pines  and  sought 
the  long  path  where  she  used  to  love  to  wake  the 
birds  from  their  morning  slumbers. 

Mrs.  Hardy  was  starting  the  fire  in  the  kitchen, 
when  Hulda  came  bounding  in,  fresh  and  bright,  and 
ready  to  help  carry  the  household  ^burdens  of  the  day. 

Mr.  Cornman  came  to  breakfast  in  his  Sunday  coat 
instead  of  the  usual  threadbare  dressing-gown.  This 
attempt  to  be  pleasing  had  a  benumbing  effect  on  the 
young  school-mistress,  but  after  a  time  she  brightened 
up  with  an  effort,  and  answered  his  many  questions 
about  her  school.  This  interest  seemed  to  her  to  be 
half  sarcasm  but  after  all,  his  help  had  been  valuable 
to  her,  and  she  tried  to^be  patient.  He  lingered  at 
the  table  and  watched  the  girl  with  a  manner  of  deep 
and  quiet  calculation.  Afterwards  he  went  out  in  the 
town. 

Mrs.  Hardy  shut  herself  in  her  room  with  Nonie  and 
her  sewing,  and  Hulda  tied  on  an  apron  and  swiftly 
placed  the  little  sitting-room  in  order;  then  she 
washed  the  dishes,  and  turned  her  attention  to  the 
making  of  a  cake,  that  would  be  needed,  in  case,  she 
thought,  should  any  one  call.  The  old  cat  purred 
about  her  feet,  the  linnets  and  chickadee-birds  in  the 
orchard  kept  up  a  -merry  twittering.  A  peach  tree  by 
the  window  thrust  its  branches  through  the  lifted 
sash,  its  twigs  heavy  with  downy, green,  little  peaches. 

Hulda  beat  the  mixture  as  faithfully  as  she  had  seen 
her  mother  do  it,  then  having  toned  the  oven  to  just 
the  right  heat,  she  closed  the  iron  door  on  the  cake. 


126  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

She  snatched  the  broom  to  sweep,  in  the  interval 
of  waiting,  when  she  heard  a  little  tapping  on  the 
front  door,  a  rush  of  light  feet,  and  a  rustling  of 
skirts  through  the  hall  and  dining-room;  the  door 
opened  and  two  perfumed  arms  were  swung  around 
her  neck,  and  Cis  Beverly  kissed  her  on  the  lips  and 
shook  her  hands,  with  the  warmest  and  sweetest  of 
greetings.  She  wore  a  neat,  black  costume,  a  stylish 
jacket,  a  cap  glistening  with  black  beads,  and  her 
yellow  hair  cut  short,  curled  all  over  her  head  and 
around  her  face. 

"Oh,  you  dear  old  girl!"  she  cried.  "What  a  grand 
young  lady  you've  got  to  be.  Oh,  what  a  long  time 
it's  been  since  I  saw  you!  Speak  to  me;  aren't  you 
glad  to  see  me?  I  came  over  just  as  soon  as  I  could 
this  morning." 

Hulda  stood  looking  at  her  stupidly.  Was  this 
the  girl  who  had  been  secretly  married,  and  had 
heartlessly  flung  her  secret  and  her  child  onto  her  for 
safe  keeping?  She  looked  so  pretty  and  winning,  so 
innocent  of  any  trouble  or  deceit.  But  Hulda' s  first 
and  only  thought  was  that  she  had  come  to  explain 
everything  and  claim  the  child;  so  she  began  to  speak 
at  once  of  the  mystery  that  had  been  such  a  care  to 
her  honest  heart. 

"Why,  yes,  Cis,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Haven't 
I  been  looking  for  a  letter  from  you  every  day  this 
year?  But  that  was  a  queer  way  to  do,  Cis,  to  push 
the  baby  off  on  me  without  my  consent.  Why 
didn't  you  come  to  see  me?  I  would  have  kept 
your  secret.  It  was  just  terrible  to  get  home  alone 


CIS    BEVERLY  127 

with  that  baby,  and  not  know  anything  about  it,  and 
have  to  tell  a  lie  to  everybody  to  fix  it  up.  O,  I  am 
so  glad  you  have  come  at  last!  Come  in  the  bed- 
room where  mother  is.  Aren't  you  dying  to  see  poor 
little  Nonie?" 

Cis  had  dropped  into  a  chair  and  sat  looking  up 
at  her  with  wide,  dilated,  blue  eyes,  and  a  paling 
face.  Cis  had  recovered  from  her  misfortune  as  best 
she  could,  after  discovering  the  base  character  of 
Max  Royse.  She  had  been  a  deceived  girl,  not  a 
bad  one,  and  when  she  found  that  all  traces  had  been 
so  carefully  covered  up  for  her  in  San  Francisco, 
she  had  resolved  to  hide  her  mishap,  and  go  on  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  She  had  called  on  Mrs.  Ellis 
and  begged  to  know  the  truth  about  the  child.  Mrs. 
Ellis,  having  no  doubt  but  that  Max  had  rescued  the 
baby  from  the  country  girl,  and  placed  it  in  some  In- 
fant Home,  told  Cis  what  she  supposed  to  be  the 
truth,  and  gave  her  soom  practical  advice. 

"Don't  try  to  find  the  baby,"  she  had  said.  "There 
is  no  one  to  tell  your  secret.  Go  to  your  home  if  you 
have  one,  and  live  a  virtuous  life,  that  is  the  best, 
after  all." 

And  this  Cis  had  concluded  to  do.  She  found  a 
place  in  a  store,  and  staid  long  enough  to  earn  money 
to  go  home  in  good  style.  She  had  regained  her 
health  and  spirits,  and  knowing  the  value  of  a  home 
with  her  own  people,  she  resolved  to  be  happy  and 
useful.  And  now  to  have  her  old  friend  meet  her 
with  this  strange  account  of  a  baby  called  Nonie, 
and  to  be  calling  it  hers  was  a  catastrophe  she  had 
not  anticipated. 


128  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

But  she  had  had  enough  experience  with  the  world, 
to  think  fast  and  well  while  Hulda  was  speaking.  She 
resolved  to  find  out  all  that  Hulda  knew  before  com- 
mitting herself  in  any  way.  She  sat  looking  dumbly 
at  her  friend,  while  Hulda  was  waiting  for  her  to 
reply. 

Hulda  went  up  to  her  and  placed  her  hand  gently 
on  her  shoulder. 

"Cis,  dear,  what  is  it?  Are  you  in  trouble  ?  Come, 
tell  me  all  about  it.  You  know,  I  know  nothing 
about  it  now.  I  will  help  you.  I  have  helped  you, 
and  I  will  again." 

Hulda  had  exposed  the  weakness  of  her  position, 
and  the  more  worldly-wise  woman,  saw  it  in  an  in- 
stant. She  shrank  back  and  assumed  a  cold,  ag- 
grieved tone. 

"Well,  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  For  goodness  sake,  explain  yourself.  Whose 
baby?  I'm  not  in  any  trouble?  What  do  you 
mean?"  She  raised  her  head  defiantly  and  looked 
at  her  astonished  friend. 

Hulda  felt  a  sinking  of  her  strength,  and  a  flutter- 
ing of  her  heart,  but  she  made  another  strategic  error, 
and  resolved  to  explain  her  story  explicitly.  She 
shut  and  locked  the  kitchen  doors,  and  then  came  and 
stood  by  the  stony,  silent  girl,  and  in  trembling  tones, 
told  how  she  had  come  in  possession  of  the  child  they 
had  called  Nonie  Graham. 

She  told  of  her  own  awkward  adventure,  for  she 
instinctively  felt  that  Cis  would  not  betray  her  con- 
fidence, which  was  a  correct  supposition  in  any  case. 


CIS    BEVERLY  I2Q 

Cis  listened  to  it  all,  with  the  same  stony  stare, 
but  with  her  mind  keenly  active.  It  was  all  very 
clear  to  her.  Mrs.  Ellis  had  made  some  mistake 
and  then  simply  lied  her  way  out  of  it.  As  for 
Hulda,  she  ought  not  to  have  opened  the  basket;  no 
smart  girl  would  have  done  it,  and  she  felt  no  pity  for 
her.  But  she  saw  that  Hulda' s  remarkable  discre- 
tion in  inventing  a  parentage  for  the  child  was  another 
loop  hole  of  escape  for  her.  She  saw,  too,  that  Hulda 
could  not  betray  her  without  revealing  her  own  fool- 
ish and  hazardous  adventure. 

Before  Hulda  had  finished  telling  her  story  slowly 
and  painfully,  Cis  had  laid  her  plan  and  gathered 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  carry  it  out. 

"And  now,"  said  Hulda,  when  she  had  finished, 
"come  and  see  the  baby."  She  led  the  way  to  the 
bedroom,  and  Cis  followed,  smiling  composedly. 
Pale,  delicate  Nonie  lay  on  the  bed,  and  Mrs.  Hardy 
sat  sewing  by  the  window.  She  rose  and  kissed  Cis 
cordially;  Cis  responded  quietly,  then  stood  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  looking  fixedly  at  the  child. 

"Do  you  recognize  your  baby?"  said  Mrs.  Hardy. 
"I  suppose  now  you  have  come  to  tell  us  all  about  it. 
We  have  guarded  your  secret  perfectly." 

Cis  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  wild,  aggrieved 
look.  "I  am  sure  I  don't  know  anything  about  it," 
she  cried.  "That  isn't  my  baby.  How  dare  you  say 
that  I  have  had  a  baby?  You  ought  to  be  arrested 
for  slander." 

Mother  and  daughter  looked  at  each  other  with 
paling,  horrified  faces.  Mrs.  Hardy  recovered  herself 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    9 


130  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

first.     "Hulda,"  she  said  calmly,  "get  those   things, 
the  chain  and  note." 

Hulda  went  to  the  closet  and  brought  out  a  bundle 
and  unrolled  it  before  the  unabashed  young  woman. 
There  was  the  little  dress  made  of  the  familiar  mus- 
lin, the  frail  gold,  chain  that  was  so  well  known  to 
each  of  them,  and  the  writing  on  the  paper,  "Take 
good  care  of  my  baby.  I  have  named  her  Nonie.  I 
will  come  and  claim  her  soon."  Cis  glanced  at  the 
articles,  then  snatched  the  chain,  with  a  well  affected 
exclamation  of  surprise. 

"Why,  that  is  my  chain !  Why,  upon  my  word  I 
gave  it  to  Jenny  Jones,  the  girl  that  roomed  with  me 
on  Eddy  Street.  And  I  gave  her  my  old  dress  too. 
Well,  well,  I  just  bet  Jennie  Jones  is  at  the  bottom 
of  this  whole  thing.  I  thought  something  was  wrong 
with  her  then. 

Hulda  lifted  up  the  shawl.  "Yes,  Jennie  too  that, 
too,"  continued  Cis.  Hulda  placed  before  her  eyes 
the  bit  of  paper.  Cis  took  it  in  her  hand  and  ex- 
amined it  closely.  "That's  Jennie's  handwriting," 
she  said.  Then  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Hardy  with  a  well 
simulated  light  laugh. 

"Well,  you're  funny  folks  to  lay  this  on  me.  But 
I  can't  blame  you.  It  did  look  like  it.  You  was 
good  to  bring  it  home,  Hulda,  thinking  it  was  for 
me,  but  I  guess  you'll  have  to  keep  it  now,  for  Jennie 
Jones  is  too  smart  for  anything.  She  used  all  my 
things  on  purpose."  Then  she  started  to  go  out  of 
the  room,  and  after  hesitating  a  moment,  turned 
back. 


CIS    BEVERLY  131 

"For  goodness  sake,  you'd  better  not  tell  this  thing. 
People  will  lay  it  all  on  Hulda.  I'm  sorry  I  can't 
help  you  any. " 

She  went  out  in  the  dining-room  and  sat  down  by 
the  table  drumming  on  it  nervously  with  her  fingers. 
Hulda  stood  dumbly  looking  at  her  mother,  who  sat 
silent,  her  eyes  full  of  tears.  She  thought  her  mother 
was  weeping  over  her  blunder  and  its  consequences  to 
them.  Cis  was  doubtless  ignorant  of  it  all,  and  she 
had  done  a  foolish  thing  for  a  good  deed.  She  went 
out  and  looked  at  Cis. 

"But  we  have  said  it  is  our  cousin's  child,"  she 
stammered. 

"Never  mind,  Hulda,"  Cis  said,  "I'll  write  down 
and  see  if  I  can  find  Jennie  Jones.  I  can  make  her 
pay  you  some  money." 

Cis  went  out  to  the  front  door  making  other  re- 
marks to  strengthen  her  case,  and  departed,  confident 
that  all  was  safe. 

"Don't  cry,  mother,"  said  Hulda,  going  back. 
"We'll  keep  the  poor  little  thing." 

"It  isn't  that,  Hulda,"  said  the  mother,  "Cis  is 
deceiving  us  all  through.  Don't  you  see  she  is  per- 
fectly hardened,  and  made  up  all  that  about  Jennie 
Jones.  It  is  dreadful.  It  will  break  her  poor  old 
grandmother's  heart." 

"No,  it  won't,  mother,"  said  Hulda  firmly,  after  a 
moment's  thought. 

"Why?" 

"Because  we'll  go  on  and  keep  the  secret  just  as 
we  have.  It  won't  do  to  murder  poor  grandma,  to 


132  DAVID   OF  JUNIPER   GULCH 

punish  Cis.  Beside,  mother,  don't  you  see  we  have 
told  it  is  our  cousin's  baby,  and  we  can't  get  out  of 
that  now  without  other  proof.  Some  day  we'll  have 
to  imagine  a  cousin's  husband  to  come  and  take  it 
away." 

She  ran  suddenly  out  of  the  room,  and  then  back 
with  a  smoking  object  in  her  hand. 

"Mother,"  she  cried,  "the  cake  is  burned  to  a  cinder. 
Come,  let's  make  another.  Mr.  Gorman's  coming 
and  it's  nearly  lunch  time." 

Somehow  Hulda's  heart  was  more  buoyant  than 
usual,  and  life,  though  disappointing,  was  glad  and 
full  of  things  worth  living  for. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
DAVID'S  BET. 

The  same  day  David  Strong  had  come  jogging 
down  a  canon  trail  on  a  fat  and  gentle  old  mule. 
He  had  been  prospecting  since  the  open  weather  of 
spring,  and  had  struck  a  little  rich  dirt  at  last  in  a 
rough,  isolated  place  he  called  Juniper  Gulch,  and  as 
long  as  the  mountain  stream  ran  freely,  he  had  re- 
mained there,  camping  in  a  little  shake  cabin,  and 
washing  out  the  gold  in  his  pan.  He  had  seen  no 
one  for  a  month,  save  a  few  Chinamen  who  had  come 
by,  one  day  "Indian  file,"  looking  out  for  new  or 
deserted  diggings.  He  had  come  out  of  his  little 
cabin  determined  to  ward  off  unwelcome  observers. 

"No  catchee  him,  John,"  he  had  said.  "No  get  him 
gold.  All  same  starve.  I  get  him  old  horse,  I  go 
home." 

The  Chinese  passed  on  and  David  had  fried  his 
bacon  and  hoarded  his  dust  in  solitude.  Not  that 
he  liked  the  solitude,  but  he  liked  the  gold,  and  his 
congenial  friends  at  Hardup  would  probably  learn  of 
his  secret  only  too  soon.  Like  any  roving  prospect- 
or he  liked  to  tell  of  his  luck  to  his  luck's  detriment, 
but  this  time  he  had  resolved  to  take  out  what  gold 
he  could  for  his  summer's  use  and  keep  his  secret 

and  his  claim. 

133 


134  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

The  water  had  now  given  out,  and  he  was  going 
into  Hardup  to  enjoy  his  gains.  He  had  burned  his 
cabin,  hidden  his  utensils,  and  caught  up  his  old 
mule.  There  were  many  children  near  his  home  on 
a  hill  at  Hardup,  who  always  knew  by  sundry  gifts 
when  David  had  made  a  strike. 

The  good  minister  also,  of  the  weather-beaten 
Methodist  Church,  had  had  occasion  to  pray  more 
fervently  than  usual  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  young 
Strong,  on  account  of  the  parcels  of  groceries  that 
usually  appeared  on  his  porch  about  the  times  of 
David's  returns.  Also  poor  old  grandpa  Beverly, 
whose  memory  had  become  unreliable,  was  forced 
occasionally  to  accept  twenty  dollars  from  David, 
who  would  protest  that  he  had  never  finished  paying 
for  the  mule,  which  he  had  purchased  of  the  old  man 
years  before. 

And  so  David  was  meditating,  as  to  how  he  would 
bring  about  these  little  pleasantries,  as  he  rode 
through  the  rocky  ravines  and  gullies,  into  the  saucer- 
like  valley  surrounding  the  town  of  Hardup.  But  he 
expected  to  go  to  the  Hardy  cottage  first  of  all,  as 
soon  as  he  had  changed  his  clothes,  and  deposited 
his  dust  at  the  express  office.  The  Hardys  were 
more  like  relatives  to  him,  than  any  one  he  knew. 
He  liked  to  think  of  them  as  being  his  own  mother 
and  sister.  But  he  had  never  thought  of  Hulda  as 
one  he  would  like  to  marry.  This  self-willed  inde- 
pendent girl  pleased  and  amused  him,  but  her  rather 
heroic  qualities  did  not  appeal  to  the  romantic  in  his 
nature.  Had  she  lost  her  eyesight,  or  met  with  some 


DAVID'S  BET  135 

other  great  personal  misfortune,  making  her  utterly 
dependent  on  others,  then  his  generous  heart  might 
have  been  led  to  expend  its  manly  love  upon  her. 
But  it  humored  his  whim  that  people  should  think 
that  he  wanted  to  marry  her.  He  did  not  care  how 
often  he  was  seen  at  the  Hardy  cottage. 

This  time  with  his  pockets  bulging  out  with  oranges, 
he  vaulted  over  the  orchard  fence,  and  tapped  at  the 
back  door  of  the  Hardy  cottage. 

"Oh,  why,  David,  is  that  you?  How  do  you  do?" 
cried  Hulda,  coming  out,  drawing  the  door  close  be- 
hind her,  and  giving  him  both  her  warm  hands. 

"Thank  you,  and  how's  yourself,  "answered  David. 
"What  a  glorious  skule  mam  you  do  make,  any  way. 
I  do  believe  you're  growing  handsome." 

"Hush,  David,  do  be  still.  There's  a  lot  of  women 
here  now — callers.  What  did  you  come  in  the  day 
time  for?" 

"How  did  I  know  you  was  here, "said  David  coolly, 
"I  came  to  see  your  mother." 

"Of  course  you  knew  I  was  home.  You  heard  it 
in  town,"  persisted  the  girl,  "but  did  you  hear  that 
Cis  was  home?" 

But  this  did  not  seem  to  be  news  of  great  import- 
ance to  David. 

"Is  that  so?"  he  said. 

"Now  go  away,"  said  Hulda,  "come  to  supper  at 
half  past  five.  The  teacher  won't  be  home  till  late 
in  the  evening,  he's  gone  somewhere  in  the  country. 
Mother  thinks  he  is  trying  to  get  on  the  County 
Board." 


136  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"Good  for  Corn,"  laughed  David.  "That's  busi- 
ness." He  then  unloaded  his  pockets  into  Hulda's 
apron  and  vaulted  again  over  the  fence. 

The  last  gossiper  and  well-wisher  had  gone,  only 
in  time  for  Hulda  to  say  a  few  words  to  her  mother 
alone,  when  David  appeared. 

"Now  mother,"  she  had  said,  "don't  say  a  word  to 
Dave  about  Cis  either  for  or  against  her.  If  he 
thinks  we  don't  like  her,  he  will  take  up  for  her, 
manlike,  you  know.  We  mustn't  let  him  marry  her, 
if  we  can  help  it.  Let  him  naturally  forget  her  if  he 
will." 

And  to  all  appearances  he  had  forgotten  her. 

After  tea  the  dishes  were  washed  and  put  away 
with  the  talk  and  laughter  usual  when  David  was 
around,  and  the  two  young  people  went  out  to  enjoy 
the  fair,  warm,  moonlight  evening  in  the  grassy  lane 
in  front  of  the  house  yard.  For  an  hour  and  more 
they  walked  back  and  forth,  some  passing  friend 
occasionally  stopping  to  speak  with  them.  One  way, 
lay  the  quiet  town,  scattered  over  several  low  hills; 
the  other  way,  at  the  lane's  end,  was  the  old  brown 
school  house,  and  seemingly  from  all  around  the 
town  came  the  merry  voices  of  children  at  play  in 
the  moonlight. 

Finally  Hulda  remembered  that  she  was  tired  and 
needed  a  full  night's  rest.  David  was  going,  but  he 
turned  back,  and  made  a  gesture  towards  the  di- 
rection of  the  Beverly  farm.  "Did  she  say  anything 
about  me?" 

"Who,  Dave?" 


DAVE'S  BET  137 

"Her— Cis." 

"Say  'she,'  Dave,  'her'  is  wrong." 

"Well,  Miss  Beverly,  then." 

"I  didn't  give  her  any  chance,  Dave.  I  did  all  the 
talking.  Bring  Lila  at  one  to-morrow,  as  you  promised. 
I  must  start  early.  I'd  let  you  ride  a  ways  with  me, 
if  it  wasn't  for  that  mule  of  yours." 

"Ho!"  cried  David.  "Do  you  suppose  my  mule 
would  be  seen  with  that  mustang  of  yourn?" 

"Say  'yours, '"called  Hulda.  But  David,  whistling 
loudly,  was  nearly  out  of  sight. 

Meanwhile  Joseph  Cornman  had  returned,  and  had 
sat  in  the  gable  window  above,  apparently  writing, 
but  in  reality  listening  to  the  murmur  of  the  voices  in 
front.  On  his  table  lay  a  bundle  of  letters  from  a 
woman  in  his  native  Eastern  state,  with  whom  he 
had  corresponded  ever  since  he  had  come  to  Cali- 
fornia. He  had  been  looking  over  the  letters.  He 
knew  what  the  correspondence,  although  dispassion- 
ately conducted,  meant  to  the  woman  in  the  East, 
but  he  had  about  concluded  to  terminate  that  corre- 
spondence. 

The  years  had  done  a  great  deal  to  remove  the 
image  of  his  correspondent  from  his  mind.  He  knew 
her  to  be  a  cultivated  woman.  He  knew  that  she 
wrote  stones  for  domestic  papers,  but  that  art  or 
talent  left  much  to  be  desired  in  the  practical  consid- 
erations now  before  his  mind. 

With  a  Californian  wife,  a  successful  school-teacher, 
and  a  favorite  in  the  county,  he  might  the  sooner 
obtain  the  coveted  seat  in  the  County  Superintend- 


138  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

ent's  chair.  To  introduce  a  stranger  to  the  slow  ap- 
preciation of  these  old  mining  communities,  meant 
delay.  The  people  here  liked  their  own,  and  they 
favored  their  own.  The  children  of  the  eldest  set- 
tlers were  their  wards,  besides  there  was  the  home- 
stead and  some  money  that  Hulda  would  some  time 
inherit,  while  Aurelia  Hawthorne  Stalker  had  nothing. 

So  Joseph  Cornman  was  vastly  annoyed  that  David 
should  monopolize  all  the  evening's  time  of  the 
Cherry  Valley  school-teacher.  But  he  nervously 
bided  his  time.  He  had  so  recently  come  into  pos- 
session of  a  definite  desire,  that  he  had  not  acquired 
a  sense  of  jealousy. 

Of  Hulda' s  ready  acquiescence  in  his  plan  he  had 
no  doubt;  and  after  the  engagement  was  arranged 
he  would  then  speedily  put  an  end  to  this  familiarity 
with  illiterate  fellows  like  Strong. 

He  had  no  recognition  of  the  fact  that  David's 
planning  had  made  the  girl  popular  in  town,  and  that 
the  good  will  of  the  town's  people  had  led  him  to  his 
present  appreciation  of  the  widow's  daughter. 

Hulda  rose  early  the  next  morning  to  have  a  little 
while  with  the  roses  in  the  front  yard,  for  after 
breakfast  would  be  church,  and  after  church,  Lila 
and  the  road. 

She  braided  her  heavy  hair  in  a  long,  shining  braid 
that  hung  to  her  waist,  put  on  a  fresh,  crisply  starched 
calico  dress,  and  with  a  pair  of  scissors  in  her  hand 
she  went  about  among  the  tall  thick  bushes,  hanging 
heavily  with  roses.  A  little,  yellow,  briar  rose  grew 
in  the  corner,  and  as  she  turned  from  a  task  of  tying 


DAVE'S  BET  139 

it  up  to  the  fence,  she  saw  the  tall  form  of  the  Hardup 
teacher  standing  beside  her.  He  had  come  so  si- 
lently, and  looked  so  grave,  that  she  felt  suddenly 
unnerved. 

"This  is  an  occupation  that  suits  your  blooming 
cheeks,  Miss  Hardy."  Hulda  was  horrified.  The 
remark  coming  from  him  sounded  incongruous.  Was 
the  man  who  had  taught  her  so  well  how  to  explain 
cube  root,  going  mad?  She  allowed  a  nervous — "O 
thank  you,"  to  escape  her  lips. 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  studiously  correct 
compliment,  the  teacher  continued  slowly,  looking 
directly  at  her:  "I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  to  you 
before  your  return,  Miss  Hulda."  She  muttered  a 
feeble  "Yes,"  and  her  persecutor  smiled  at  her  with 
satisfaction,  as  he  noted  the  color  deepening  on  her 
cheeks.  She  shrank  back  against  the  briar  rose-bush 
in  the  corner,  and  waited  mutely. 

"I  think  I  know  of  a  splendid  opening  for  you, 
Miss  Hardy,  one  that  will  suit  you  very  well." 

"Indeed!"  she  exclaimed,  really  surprised. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  a  nice  position?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  girl. 

"They  are  going  to  grade  this  school  next  term, 
and  have  two  rooms.  They  will  want  a  primary 
teacher.  Now  if  you  would  like  the  place  as  my 
assistant — " 

"But,  Oh,"  cried  Hulda,  "the  people  here  think  I 
am  too  young,  a  mere  girl.  Besides,  the  trustees 
here  are  against  women  teachers." 

Mr.  Cornman  hesitated,  then  placing  his  cold   fin- 


140  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

gers  on  her  ruddy  wrist  that  embraced  her  bundle  of 
roses,  he  said  slowly  looking  solemnly  into  her  face. 

"As  my  wife,  you  could  get  it." 

The  girl's  exclamation  of  surprise  was  like  a  stifled 
scream,  and  the  thorny  bush  clasped  her  ankles  as 
she  drew  away  her  wrist  and  let  some  of  her  roses 
fall.  She  dropped  her  head,  overcome  with  shame 
and  confusion.  Her  suitor  was  then  sure  of  his  case. 

"Don't  you  want  the  place?"  he  asked  softly. 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  the  girl  looking  down,  and  not  wish- 
ing to  offend  one  who  had  been  so  really  kind  to  her, 
"I  can't  be  your  wife.  I  am  too  young.  I  never 
thought  of  it  before." 

Mr.  Cornman  went  on  with  firm  and  gentle  insist- 
ence. 

"I  did  not  expect  you  to  think  of  it  before.  We 
can  arrange  it  now." 

The  suffering  girl  was  literally  cornered.  She  must 
refuse,  yet  she  had  not  the  courage  to  offend.  Her 
eyes  filled  with  tears  of  vexation,  and~  her  cheeks 
flamed. 

"Ah,  this  is  what  I  thought — you  love  me,"  said 
the  Hardup  teacher. 

She  looked  up  angry  now.  "Sir,"  she  cried,  "in- 
deed I  do  not.  Please,  Mr.  Cornman,  I  can't  marry 
you.  Let  me  go." 

But  he  only  smiled  strangely,  took  her  arm  and 
led  her  out  into  the  path. 

"I  will  let  you  go,"  he  said,  "you  are  excited.  You 
are  a  little  too  young,  now.  But  you  will  change, 
and  change  your  mind  too.  Then  you  will  let  me 
know,  and  we  will  arrange  it." 


DAVE'S  BET  141 

He  went  away  as  silently  as  he  had  come,  and 
mounted  the  stairs  to  his  room,  while  Hulda  stood 
stupefied  in  the  garden.  The  muslin  curtain  at  the 
parlor  window  moved  away.  There  sat  David,  mak- 
ing odd  gestures  at  her,  his  face  convulsed  with  re- 
strained laughter. 

He  had  come  in  early  to  beg  for  breakfast,  just  in 
time  to  witness  the  little  comedy.  David  had  won 
his  bet,  and  the  fun  he  made  of  her  all  the  morning 
helped  her  to  control  her  genuine  distress  and  vex- 
ation. 

David  went  to  church  with  her,  a  fact  that  every 
one  in  Hardup  remembered  and  made  much  of  after- 
wards. 

Then  he  brought  Lila  from  the  stable  and  rode  her 
a  turn  or  two  around  the  schoolhouse  before  Hulda 
mounted.  The  girl  went  galloping  swiftly  up  the 
long  gravelly  slope,  with  a  feeling  of  relief  and  glad- 
ness. The  woods,  the  flowers,  and  the  sweet  scented 
air  were  better  than  her  perplexing  thoughts,  and  no 
mountain  wind  could  burn  her  cheeks,  as  had  the 
premature  proposal  of  Joseph  Cornman.  But  she 
was  happy  now  on  Lila,  and  she  went  rapidly  down 
the  mountain  side  to  the  trough  at  the  bend  in  the 
road  with  no  thought  whatever,  that  Lila  was  likely 
to  frighten  again  at  the  same  object. 

La  Grange  had  forgotten  to  caution  her  in  regard 
to  that,  and  for  this  reason,  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
persuading  himself  that  he  ought  to  go  down  and  see 
her  safely  past  the  dangerous  spot.  It  would  be  but 
a  seven  mile  gallop  for  him,  and  another  runaway 


142  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

would  spoil  Lila,  and   forever  intimidate  the  rider. 
And  so  Hulda  met  him  coming  up  the  grade  to  meet 
her,  and  he  gave  a  frank  explanation    of    his    reason 
for  coming.     The  Bird's  Flat  school-teacher   was  so 
accustomed  to  horseback  riding,    that  it  was  for  him 
but  a  simple  courtesy.     He  acknowledged  to  himself 
that  he  came  also  because  he  liked  to  talk  to  the  girl. 
Miss  Hardy  was  by  far  the  most  originally  interesting 
young  woman  he  knew.     There  were  several    young 
ladies  in  the  county  who   had   been   to   Oakland    for 
seminary  educations,  who  were  quite  glad  to   receive 
attentions   from   Edward   La  Grange.      But    beyond 
gaining  their  good  will,  he  had  had   no  time  to   de- 
vote himself  to  them.      Now  he  was   honestly    inter- 
ested in  this  unsophisticated  girl,  whom    he    hoped 
would  become  one  of  the  best  teachers  in  the  county, 
in  which  he  desired  to  have  a  strong  political  footing, 
so  practically  did  he  look  forward  to  Kis  future  years. 
He  had  even  put  in  motion  a  chain  of  events,  that 
had  caused  the  Cherry  Valley  trustees  to  hear  favor- 
ably of  Miss  Hardy.     As  the    two   proceeded    down 
the  grade  Hulda's  tired  face  grew  bright.      It  seemed 
so  natural  and  appropriate  that  he  should  be   there. 
She  forgot  her  cares  and  grew  happy  under  his  gentle 
and   skillful,  though    rather   domineering   influence. 
She  told  him  all  about  her  little    school,  and    about 
the  Dorms  family,  who  were  to  enter  with  a  bad  rep- 
utation for  restraint  of  any  kind,  and  a  trained  antip- 
athy for  all  the  rest  of  the  children. 

La  Grange  laughed  heartily,  and  gave   her   some 
good  advice.     He  also  said  he  would  come    over   on 


DAVE'S  BET  143 

the  first  leisure  Saturday,  and  help  her  over  any  little 
perplexity  that  might  be  present. 

They  walked  their  horses  up  the  grade,  and  through 
the  thick  bushes  on  the  long  divide.  Once  they 
stopped,  and  La  Grange  sprang  from  his  horse  to 
gather  her  a  handful  of  Mariposa  lilies.  They  were 
in  sight  of  Cherry  Valley,  when  he  drew  rein  and 
said  he  would  go  back. 

"You  will  be  home  by  sunset,"  he  said.  "Give 
Lila  the  rein  and  let  her  go.  Go  to  bed  early  and 
rest.  I  think  you  must  have  had  a  busy  vacation; 
any  way,  you  have  had  two  hard  rides." 

He  dismounted  and  came  and  stood  beside  her 
while  he  took  her  hand  in  parting.  Then  he  lifted 
his  hat  courteously  while  she  smiled  her  goodby  and 
thanks.  Lila  shook  her  head  free  and  bounded 
away,  more  anxious  to  be  home  than  her  weary  rider 
was  to  leave  such  a  pleasant  loitering  among  the 
long  shadows  of  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


"The  Dormses  is  comin'  to-day.  *  The  shirts  is 
done,"  cried  Alex  at  the  breakfast-table,  Monday 
morning.  The  teacher  became  aware  of  it  when  she 
arrived  at  the  schoolhouse  on  old  Block,  with  the 
youngest  Woods  behind  her.  The  Dorms  family 
were  arrayed  in  a  silent  row  in  the  shade  by  the  side 
of  the  school  building,  their  tin  lunch-pails  and  books 
in  an  orderly  arrangement  on  the  ground.  Buck 
Dorms,  nearly  six  feet  in  height,  and  two  small 
boys,  wore  new  blue  overalls,  and  bright  blue  ging- 
ham shirts,  and  three  pairs  of  new  pink  suspenders 
held  up  the  essentials  of  the  masculine  Dormses. 

The  two  girls  wore  pink  calico  dresses,  and  sun- 
bonnets  of  the  same  material. 

Buck  Dorms  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  house, 
and  looked  .silently  and  stolidly  away  to  the  west. 

The  young  teacher  put  away  her  things  and  went 
to  speak  to  them.  She  succeeded  in  getting  Buck 
to  give  her  his  hand  to  shake,  but  the  smaller  boys 
dropped  their  heads  and  nervously  twisted  their  bare 
toes  in  the  sand.  She  peeked  into  the  pink  sunbon- 
nets,  and  saw  two  dark  little  faces  with  bright  black 
eyes,  but  the  whole  family  seemed  to  be  mute.  As 

144 


145 

Hulda  moved  away  in  despair,  one  of  the  girls  pulled 
her  dress. 

"Teacher,"  she  said,  "Pap  sent  word  for  you  not 
to  have  us  sit  with  any  of  the  Bateses." 

The  teacher  smiled  a  gracious  assent  to  these  di- 
rections, and  the  five  Dormses  brightened  up  at  once, 
and  reached  for  their  pails  and  books  to  be  ready 
to  enter  the  house. 

Hulda  gave  her  entire  attention  to  seating  the 
Dorms  family,  where  there  would  be  the  least  dan- 
ger of  hostilities. 

Buck  was  given  a  seat  by  himself  in  the  back  of 
the  room  on  the  left,  the  width  of  the  house  between 
him  and  Millie  Bates,  who  occupied  the  correspond- 
ing seat  on  the  other  side.  The  two  smaller  boys 
were  by  themselves,  and  the  little  pink  girls  were 
under  the  teacher's  eye  in  front,  with  not  a  Bates  in 
sight  of  them. 

The  oldest  Dorms  had  but  two  books,  an  arithmetic 
and  a  manual  of  book-keeping.  He  announced  that 
they  were  all  he  wished  to  study.  His  father,  it 
seems,  had  decided  that  he  should  not  waste  his 
time  on  grammar,  and  other  trifling  studies  designed 
especially  for  girls.  Hulda,  however,  after  some 
days  of  adroit  managing,  succeeded  in  persuading 
him  to  read  an  American  history  and  to  copy  and 
read  a  little  from  the  readers  and  geographies.  He 
said  he  was  too  big  to  recite,  but  Hulda  found  that 
he  really  acquired  a  great  deal  of  information  in  his 
own  way  from  the  books  she  placed  in  his  hands. 

Millie  Bates  was  also  an  unclassified  pupil    but  'ft 

David  of  Juniper  G'ulch    10 


146  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

was  even  more  difficult  to  find  out  what  she  was 
learning  than  to  sound  the  stolid  Dorms. 

Millie  was  perfectly  willing  and  obedient,  and  never 
refused  to  attempt  to  study  or  recite.  But  the  sem- 
blance of  study  seemed  to  be  her  best  achievement. 
She  was  never  impatient  and  smiled  sweetly  over  all 
her  failures.  She  advanced  steadily  page  by  page, 
and  covered  all  the  ground,  but  what  she  really  re- 
membered her  gentle  teacher  never  knew.  But  she 
did  know  that  Millie  appreciated  and  loved  her. 

Mrs.  Bates  had  a  local  fame  as  cook,  and  Millie, 
having  an  aptitude  also  in  that  direction,  had  ac- 
quired considerable  proficiency  in  this  domestic  art 
and,  every  Monday  morning  she  would  bring  her 
teacher  a  slice  of  some  delicious  cake;  the  best  tes- 
timonial she  was  able  to  offer,  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  her  appreciation. 

Millie  had  large  blue  eyes  and  pink  cheeks.  She 
combed  her  light  hair  in  handsome  coils,  and  as  girls 
were  classified  in  those  parts,  she  was  esteemed 
rather  pretty. 

For  the  first  week  there  seemed  to  be  no  sign  of 
trouble  between  the  Dorms  and  Bates  factions. 
Quiet  reigned.  On  the  second  Monday  the  Dorms 
family  again  came  into  prominence  by  appearing  in 
new  colors.  The  boys  wore  pink  shirts  this  time, 
and  the  girls  blue  dresses  and  sunbonnets. 

Soon  after  the  morning  session  opened  Buck  Dorms 
dropped  his  book  upon  the  desk  with  a  loud  bang, 
reached  for  his  hat  and  suddenly  left  the  room.  His 
watchful  teacher  followed  him  to  the  porch  with  an 
expression  of  simple  curiosity  on  her  fae«. 


THE    "BATESES  AND  THE  DORMSES"  147 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Buck?  Is  there  any- 
thing wrong?" 

The  young  man  turned  his  dark,  angry  face  toward 
her. 

"You  bet  I'll  go  home  if  Millie  don't  stop  laffin' 
at  me." 

Hulda  smiled,  yet  she  had  no  comprehension  of 
the  real  reason  of  this  seemingly  hostile  remark. 

"I  don't  think  she  is  laughing  at  you,  Buck,"  she 
said.  "But  I  will  see.  She  must  not  do  it.  Wait, 
and  I  will  speak  to  her." 

Buck  obediently  sat  down  on  the  porch  and  waited. 
Millie's  face  was  in  her  apron,  and  she  was  laughing 
hysterically  and  refused  to  speak.  But  bright  little 
Alex  held  up  his  hand. 

"Please,  Miss  Hardy,  she's  laffin'  at  Buck.  His 
hands  gets  pink  off-m  his  shirt." 

Hulda  gently  reproved  her  young  lady  pupil,  and 
the  laughter  was  changed  into  an  equally  unrestrained 
shower  of  tears. 

Buck,  watching  from  the  door,  was  then  apparently 
mollified,  and  returned  to  his  seat. 

A  day  or  so  after,  at  the  noon  day  recess,  one  of 
the  small  Bates  boys  came  in  crying.  "Buck  Dorms 
throwed  a  rock  at  me,"  he  whimpered. 

Hulda  went  out  to  reason  with  Buck,  but  he  posi- 
tively denied  having  thrown  a  rock  at  the  boy.  The 
teacher  spent  the  hour  smoothing  over  the  difficulty. 
The  week  then  passed  away  without  further  hostilities. 
The  younger  children  became  used  to  each  other  and 
began  to  associate  amicably  on  the  playground.  Buck 


148  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

and  Mlilie,  however,  seemed  to  take  every  favorable 
opportunity  to  publish  their  antipathy. 

Millie  said  several  times,  in  a  loud  voice,  that  Buck 
did  throw  the  rock,  and  Buck  retaliated  by  flinging 
a  pebble  in  Millie's  direction,  whenever  she  appeared 
in  his  sight  on  the  playground. 

The  young  teacher  observed  this  with  forebodings. 
She  knew  that  a  quarrel  at  school  would  be  extended 
to  the  families  at  home,  and  might  result  in  the 
withdrawal  of  nearly  all  of  her  pupils. 

One  day  Millie  came  in  at  recess  and  dropped  into 
her  seat  sobbing.  Hulda  hurried  sympathetically  to 
her  side,  and  after  some  coaxing  found  that  one  of 
Buck's  pebbles  had  hit  her  upon  the  side  of  the  face. 
There  was  no  mark  on  the  round,  firm,  apple-cheek, 
and  why  the  girl's  heart  should  be  so  utterly  crushed 
by  so  slight  an  injury,  or  affront,  was  incomprehen- 
sible to  the  serious-minded  teacher.  But  she  tried 
to  comfort  her,  then  went  out  to  see  if  she  could  not 
reason  Buck  into  some  terms  of  peace. 

Buck  had  been  stealing  information  through  the 
window,  and  was  evidently  pleased  to  see  Millie  in  a 
condition  of  such  abject  sorrow.  He  listened  to  all 
his  teacher  had  to  say,  with  quiet  good-nature.  He 
whittled  a  stick  vigorously  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
Hulda's  long  dissertation  on  charity  and  the  forgive- 
ness of  offenses. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  finally,  "tell  her  I  won't  do 
it  again,  if  she'll  just  stop  lafnn'  at  me."  Here  was 
another  mystery,  for  Hulda  knew  it  to  be  incompat- 
ible with  Millie's  simple  nature  to  rtally  attempt  t© 


THE    "BATESES  AND  THE  DORMSES* ' 

ridicule  any  one.  However,  quiet  and  peace  suc- 
ceeded; but  the  young  teacher's  mind  was  in  contin- 
ual anxiety  lest  hostilities  should  at  any  moment  be 
resumed. 

She  became  so  worried  and  perplexed  thinking  it 
all  over,  that  upon  the  next  Saturday,  she  cast  it  all 
from  her  memory  and  rested  her  mind  by  devoting 
the  day  to  her  studies.  Latin-English  translation 
was  always  to  her  an  absorbing  recreation.  Then 
she  spent  an  hour  with  her  favorite  poem,  Aurora 
Leigh.  With  the  limited  experiences  of  her  young 
life,  she  could  not  understand  all  of  it,  but  she  had 
a  liking  for  its  seriousness.  Her  own  blundering 
hands  had  been  led  to  take  hold  of  strange  yet  man- 
ifest duties,  and  she  found  comfort  in  Aurora's 
nobility.  Life  seemed  easier  and  sweeter  after  read- 
ing of  her. 

Before  lunch  she  laid  down  her  books  and  put  on 
a  new  white  dress  her  mother  had  made  and  sent 
her.  It  was  more  elaborately  made  than  her  old 
ones,  with  open  sleeves  showing  her  round,  white 
arms.  She  had  become  more  clever  in  arranging 
her  hair,  having  caught  a  trick  of  Millie  Bates,  and 
she  brushed  it  into  shining  coils  and  drew  it  into  a 
shapely  and  modish  design.  Then  she  pinned  on  her 
breast  a  great  bunch  of  her  favorite  poppies  (Esch- 
scholtzias),  that  Alex  and  Trummy  had  brought  her 
that  morning.  She  then  turned  to  her  glass  with  a 
reflective  glance.  She  had  suddenly  wondered  if  she 
could  ever  be  so  good  looking  as  to  be  loved,  like  a 
heroine  in  a  book.  She  was  startled  at  the  vision 


15O  DAVID    OB'  JUNIPER    GULCH 

she  saw  there.  Certainly  her  eyes  had  never  looked 
so  dark  and  glowing  as  now,  over  the  mass  of  golden 
poppies,  A  new  expression  was  growing  around 
her  mouth,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  more  delicate 
outline  in  the  paler  pink  of  her  cheeks.  And  she 
blushed  to  have  caught  a  smile  hovering  on  her  lips. 
Shaking  out  her  soft  white  skirt,  she  went  out  into 
the  porch,  sheltered  by  blooming  honey-suckles,  and 
there  waited  for  the  call  to  lunch.  She  suddenly 
heard  the  loud  voice  of  Mr.  Woods  saying  to  some 
one  around  the  corner  of  the  house: 

"Yes,  you  can  raise  any  kind  of  fruit  here,  but 
what  are  you  going  to  do  for  a  market?" 

"Well,  the  market  will  come,  I  think,"  answered 
a  well-modulated  vocie,  the  sound  of  which  caused 
the  girl's  heart  to  leap,  and  the  blood  to  tingle  a 
moment  in  her  cheeks. 

Just  then  the  two  men  came  around  the  corner  of 
the  house  toward  her — Mr.  Woods  and  Edward  La 
Grange — each  carrying  a  market  basket  full  of  ripe 
cherries.  La  Grange  placed  his  basket  quickly  on 
the  porch  and  came  toward  Hulda,  who  had  held 
out  her  warm  hand. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Hardy?"  he  said.  "I  have 
been  scraping  up  an  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Wood 
on  the  strength  of  having  met  you.  So  please  don't 
repudiate  me  now." 

The  surprised  girl  murmured  almost  inaudibly, 
"Oh,  no,  why  should  I  ?"  while  he  held  her  hand  firmly, 
Mr.  Woods  having  turned  away  to  wipe  his  heated 
face. 


THE    "BATESES  AND  THE  DORMSES"  151 

Then  Hulda  quickly  brought  some  chairs,  and  La 
Grange  sat  down,  watching  her  with  a  pleased  and 
puzzled  expression.  He  had  never  before  noticed 
that  she  possessed  so  many  of  the  elements  of  beauty. 
Mr.  Woods  turned  to  them  with  a  smiling  look. 

"Well,  I  had  the  advantage  on  scraping  acquaint- 
ances, for  he  finished  the  last  of  my  cherries." 

La  Grange  laughed,  threw  off  his  white  straw  hat, 
and  lifting  a  basket  of  cherries,  placed  it  within 
reach  of  Hulda.  No  one  could  help  but  feel  at  home 
with  La  Grange.  Both  felt  the  charm  of  his  perfect 
self-possession  and  ease.  Hulda  recovered  from  her 
embarrassment. 

"What !  Picking  cherries  instead  of  breaking 
horses?" 

"Oh,  anything!"  laughed  the  young  man. 

Then  Mr.  Woods  explained  that  La  Grange  had 
been  up  in  his  large  cherry  trees  all  the  morning,  and 
had  finished  the  cherry  picking.  Then  Hulda  re- 
membered that  the  little  boys  had  gone  up  the  creek 
to  fish,  or  rather  to  play  at  fishing,  which  accounted 
for  the  silence,  and  the  fact  that  she  did  not  know 
before  of  his  presence. 

Not  that  La  Grange  thought  this  the  only  means 
of  obtaining  the  favor  of  Mr.  Woods,  but  as  he  rode 
up  he  observed  that  Mr.  Woods  was  having  some 
difficulty  working  with  a  short  ladder  and  large  trees, 
and  having  yet  a  boy's  love  of  the  sport,  he  had 
offered  to  assist.  That  his  political  prospects  might 
be  improved  by  his  ability  to  pick  cherries,  was  an 
afterthought. 


152  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Although  the  attractions  of  the  Cherry  Valley 
school-teacher  had  brought  him  there,  yet,  viewing  it 
politically,  he  knew  that  his  time  in  the  cherry 
trees  had  been  better  employed  than  in  conversing 
with  the  brown-eyed  young  teacher. 

But  Mrs.  Woods  had  seen  the  stranger  in  the  trees 
and  had  made  herself  busy  preparing  a  savory  and 
attractive  luncheon  She  soon  appeared  on  the  porch, 
and  welcomed  La  Grange  with  pleasure  in  her  voice 
and  manners;  for  the  presence  of  so  agreeable  a  per- 
son was  another  break  in  the  monotony  of  her  life. 
She  took  them  all  in  to  lunch,  supplying  a  flow  of 
apt  and  pleasing  remarks. 

Hulda  felt  a  new  sense  of  companionship  with  her 
young  friend,  as  she  noted  the  familiar  footing  he 
adopted  among  these  plain-mannered,  yet  intelligent 
people. 

The  days  were  now  growing  longer  and  warmer, 
and  La  Grange  was  very  content  that  afternoon  to 
sit  on  the  shaded  porch,  perfumed  with  honey-suckles, 
and  study  the  character  and  opinions  of  this  attract- 
ive and  shy  young  woman.  He  was  amused  with  her 
recital  of  her  difficulties  at  school;  he  knew  that  they 
would  not  seem  so  grave  to  him.  He  could  not  for 
himself  understand  why  two  young  people  at  that 
age  should  perpetuate  the  family  feud  in  a  really  se- 
rious manner.  He  thought  a  little  managing  of  some 
sort  might  bring  the  young  people  together  into  more 
amicable  relationship.  The  family  troubles  ought  to  be 
eliminated  among  the  children  for  the  sake,  any  way, 
of  the  school  and  its  interests.  He  then  told  Hulda 


THE   "BATESES  AND  THE  DORMSES"  153 

of  a  project  he  had  for  the  amusement  of  the  people, 
and  he  thought  that,  possibly,  through  it,  the  hos- 
tile children  might  be  drawn  into  peaceful  relations. 
He  wished  her  to  unite  with  him  in  giving  a  school 
picnic  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  He  said  that  there  was 
a  very  nice  grove  of  oaks  about  half  way  between  the 
two  districts.  He  thought  that  with  the  two  schools 
a  good  program  might  be  arranged;  a  platform,  he 
said,  would  be  erected  by  the  young  men  of  his  dis- 
trict, provided  they  could  have  a  dance.  Hulda 
dropped  her  eyes,  clasping  her  hands  silently.  The 
picnic  would  be  delightful;  but  she  was  thinking 
about  the  dance.  She  had  been  taught  to  disapprove 
of  anything  of  that  kind,  and  La  Grange  knew  it. 
He  left  his  chair  and  came  and  sat  down  on  the  edge 
of  the  porch  at  her  feet. 

"I  know  you're  troubled,"  he  said,  "about  the 
dance,  but  believe  me  there  is  no  use  to  have  a  pic- 
nic without  it.  No  one  would  come.  We  can  have 
the  exercise  before  lunch,  and  then  if  you  are  so 
much  troubled  about  the  dance,  you  could — " 

Hulda  interrupted,  "Come  home." 

La  Grange  laughed  and  picked  up  a  poppy  that 
had  fallen  from  her  throat. 

"Yes,  you  could. "La  Grange  was  not  playing  lover, 
he  was  dispatching  business;  and  she  liked  his  way  of 
doing  it.  Hulda  decided  not  to  oppose  the  dance. 
Since  she  had  first  met  La  Grange,  David  had  given 
her  some  practical  training  in  the  art  of  mingling 
agreeably  with  all  sorts  of  people.  At  that  time  and 
place  there  was  so  selection — society  was  cosmopol- 
itan or  nothing. 


154  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"I  will  not  treat  your  picnic  that  way,"  she  said. 
"I  will  stay  and  talk  to  the  pople." 

He  looked  up  into  her  face  with  a  grateful  expres- 
sion of  understanding.  "You  are  right,"  he  contin- 
ued, "and  if  you  will  come  over  on  Lila,  I  would  be 
pleased  to  ride  home  with  you  after  the  picnic.  It 
will  be  on  Friday.  Now  let  us  arrange  about  that 
program." 

He  was  glad  that  he  did  not  have  to  argue  again 
with  this  proud  girl  on  the  subject  of  dancing,  which 
he  cared  for  only  as  a  means  of  associating  with  the 
people. 

The  sun  was  low  when  the  arrangements  were  quite 
finished,  and  he  arose  from  his  low  seat  so  close  to 
the  folds  of  her  white  dress. 

"Now,  good-by,"  his  manner  was  always  so  pa- 
tronly,  "I  will  be  over  on  Saturday,  sure.  Two  weeks 
is  a  short  time  for  us  to  get  ready  in,  but  I  think  we 
will  get  on  nicely." 

After  he  had  gone  Hulda  was  telling  Mrs.  Woods 
of  the  plans  they  had  made  for  the  exercises,  and  she 
was  surprised  upon  reflection,  that  she  had  con- 
sented to  these  arrangements;  for  she  was  now 
doubtful  that  they  could  be  successfully  carried  out. 
Her  children  had  never  participated  in  anything  of 
the  kind. 

Among  other  things  the  plan  was  to  have  all  the 
children  march  several  times  around  the  platform 
singing  "Hail  Columbia,"  with  Millie  Bates  and 
Buck  Dorms  at  the  head,  severally  costumed  as  Co- 
lumbia and  Brother  Jonathan. 


THE    "BATESES  AND  THE  DORMSES"  155 

"You  will  do  well  if  you  make  them  do  it,"  com- 
mented Mrs.  Woods,  "but  if  you  could,  the  two  fam- 
ilies would  be  so  proud,  they  might  quit  quarreling 
for  a  while." 

So  Hulda  determined  to  carry  out  the  plan  if  pos- 
sible. 

Millie  had  a  well  developed,  Minerva  like  form, 
and  Buck  was  tall  and  awkward;  both  well  designed 
for  presentaton  of  these  characters. 

Hulda  thought  it  best  to  first  introduce  the  subject 
to  Buck;  so  on  the  Monday  following  she  went  out 
to  the  oak  tree  where  he  was  whittling  in  the  shade, 
and  candidly  told  him  of  the  plans  for  the  picnic,  and 
what  they  wanted  him  to  do.  To  her  surprise  he 
offered  no  objection. 

"I  know  La  Grange,"  he  said,  "he  is  a  good  fellow. 
I'll  do  it  to  please  him  or  you  either;  if  Millie  will," 
he  added. 

Hulda  found  that  her  real  task  was  with  Millie. 
When  the  plan  was  explained  at  Millie's  desk  at  the 
recess,  Millie,  blushing,  dropped  her  head  on  her 
arms  and  giggled  so  much  and  so  long  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  get  a  definite  answer  from  her  that  day. 

The  next  day  she  assured  the  teacher  with  great 
emphasis,  that  she  wouldn't  do  it  for  anything  in  the 
world,  she  knew  she  wouldn't.  She  was  sure  her 
mother  wouldn't  allow  it,  either. 

Hulda  gently  reminded  her  that  she  was  the  only 
girl  in  the  two  districts,  who  had  a  perfectly  classic 
form,  and  therefore  the  only  one  suitable  for  the  part. 
On  the  third  day  Millie  came  and  blushingly  said, 


156  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

that  she  was  willing  to  appear  as  Columbia,  if  Buck 
would  come  and  ask  her  himself.  Again  the  teacher 
stated  the  case  to  the  eldest  of  the  Dorms  family. 
Buck  received  the  information  in  silence,  whittling 
as  usual. 

"All  right,"  he  said  finally,  "I'll  see  what  I'll  do." 

At  noon  time  Hulda  saw  the  two  councilling  to- 
gether under  the  oak  tree,  and  then  Millie  came  to 
her,  all  smiles,  and  said  she  had  consented.  Hulda 
was  relieved,  especially  as  there  seemed  to  be  no 
more  quarreling,  and  "Columbia"  and  "Brother  Jona- 
than" consulted  continuously  under  the  oak  tree. 

Saturday  La  Grange  came  again  and  all  the  arrange- 
ments were  perfected.  La  Grange  assumed  the  re- 
sponsibility and  care  of  the  preparation  of  "  Brother 
Jonathan,"  leaving  Millie's  costume  to  the  devices  of 
Mrs.  Woods  and  Hulda, 

The  teachers  had  much  to  talk  about  that  warm 
June  day;  and  when  La  Grange  started  home  Hulda 
put  on  a  wide  hat  and  walked  with  him  a  ways  fol- 
lowing the  shadows  on  the  creek  road.  The  picnic 
had  placed  them  on  a  more  social  basis.  They  chat- 
ted and  laughed  freely  and  told  each  other  their  later 
school-room  experiences.  The  young  woman  was 
receiving  confidence  and  courage  from  the  wiser 
young  man.  He  seemed  not  to  know  any  difficulties, 
and  he  was  so  earnest,  and  faced  hard  work  so  un- 
flinchingly. She  wondered;  and  became  more  am- 
bitious and  broader  in  mind. 

Even  on  that  day  he  had  carried  a  Virgil's  ^Enead 
in  his  pocket,  reviewing  its  hard  lines  as  he  rode 
through  the  shady  groves,  and  over  stony  ridges. 


THE    "BATESES   AND  THE   DORMSES"  157 

They  stood  with  a  lingering  hand  clasp  when  the 
setting  of  the  sun  warned  him  that  he  must  hasten  on. 

"I  think  it  will  all  be  a  success  only  for  one  thing," 
he  said,  looking  steadily  down  upon  her,  "that  is,  you 
will  not  dance  with  me." 

The  warm  color  flooded  her  face.  She  wished 
that  she  need  not  offend  him  for  so  slight  a  thing. 
Besides  she  really  wanted  to  dance,  and  to  dance 
with  him.  Millie  had  been  teaching  her  the  steps, 
and  with  the  knowledge  came  temptation.  She  com- 
pressed her  lips  and  looked  down. 

"Only  for  my  mother,"  she  stammered. 

"There,"  he  said,  "I'll  not  tease  you.  I  wish  I  had 
a  mother  to  honor.  Good-night,  now.  I'll  not  see 
you  till  the  Fourth." 

He  leaped  into  his  saddle  and  was  off.  She  tuuned 
back,  listening  to  the  ring  of  his  horse's  feet  on  the 
hard,  graded  road.  Life  seemed  so  newly  precious 
and  rich,  and  all  effort  so  natural  and  sweet.  She 
thought  no  place  in  all  the  world  could  be  as  fair  as 
that  warm  red  hill,  the  brushy  creek,  the  irregular 
orchard,  and  the  low,  brown  farmhouse. 

During  the  week  following,  Millie  had  several  tear- 
ful afternoons,  but  the  anxious  teacher  could  not  de- 
termine the  cause.  Buck,  however,  assured  her, 
that  Millie  wouldn't  go  back  on  what  she  had  agreed 
to  do,  and  Thursday  night  came  and  all  was  ready 
for  the  first  picnic  of  the  Cherry  Creek  and  Bird's 
Flat  School  Districts,  the  events  and  consequences 
of  which  were  destined  to  work  a  radical  change  in 
the  lives  of  several  of  the  participants. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  PICNIC. 

It  was  in  the  line  of  natural  events  that  David 
Strong,  over  in  Hardup,  should  hear  of  the  picnic. 
He  immediately  had  a  great  desire  to  see  his  friend 
Hulda  Hardy  surrounded  by  her  pupils  and  her  new 
friends.  A  few  thoughts  about  it  led  him  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  ought  to  get  a  neat  buggy  and  take 
Mrs.  Hardy  to  that  picnic,  for  he  knew  that  the  good 
woman  seldom  went  away  from  home,  and  it  would 
be  a  rare  pleasure  to  her,  as  well  as  the  novelty  of 
attending  an  affair  in  which  her  daughter  was  directly 
concerned. 

It  would  also  be  a  chance  for  him  to  show  that  he 
appreciated  the  many  home  privileges  he  had  enjoyed 
at  the  Hardy  cottage. 

Going  to  the  livery  stable  in  town  to  hire  a  buggy, 
he  found  that  he  could  get  nothing  but  a  two  seated 
carriage.  As  he  stood  in  a  quandary  looking  at  it, 
a  new  idea  occurred  to  him. 

He  whistled  softly,  engaged  the  carriage  and  two 
horses,  and  then  strode  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
widow's  home. 

He  found  Mrs.  Hardy  in  her  kitchen.     She    was 

willing  and  glad  to  go,  although  she  would  have   to 

158 


THE    PICNIC  159 

sit  up  late  that  night  to  prepare  the  lunch,  and  also 
be  burdened  on  the  trip  with  the  care  of  the  child, 
Nonie. 

Then  David  went  out,  enjoying  fully  the  process 
of  carrying  out  his  plan. 

Mr.  Jospeh  Cornman  was  sitting  on  the  front  porch 
in  the  moonlight.  No,  he  had  not  heard  of  the  pic- 
nic.  He  hoped  it  would  pass  off  satisfactorily,  and 
not  cause  Hulda  any  trouble,  as  such  things  usually 
did.  He  was  very  glad  Mrs.  Hardy  was  going,  very 
glad. 

"You'd  better  come  along  too,"  suggested  David, 
carelessly,  as  if  he  had  not  been  planning  towards 
that  particular  end.  "There's  plenty  of  room — two 
horse  rig — more  the  merrier — glad  to  have  you." 

Mr.  Cornman' s  face  relaxed,  but  he  was  careful  to 
restrain  a  smile.  He  succeeded  very  well  in  avoiding 
a  too  eager  acceptance  of  the  offer.  He  finally  stated 
that  if  he  would  not  be  at  all  in  the  way,  he  would 
go  to  occupy  the  vacant  seat. 

All  this  was  great  fun  for  David.  His  plan  was  to 
take  the  Hardup  teacher  to  the  picnic  to  exasperate 
Hulda  all  day  with  the  situations  he  would  bring 
about,  and  then  mollify  her  afterwards  with  his  good- 
humor.  It  was  choice  amusement  for  him.  It  was 
worth  the  eight  dollars  for  the  team. 

So  he  left  the  cottage  chuckling  over  the  progress 
of  his  arrangements.  Then  as  he  whistled  along, 
another  after-thought  came  with  seductive  power. 
He  threw  up  his  hand  and  stopped.  There  was  still 
a  vacant  scat  in  the  carriage.  There  was  another 


l6o  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

one  who  might  want  to  go  for  love  of  Hulda,  of  whom 
Hulda  had  spoken  kindly  the  Sunday  that  she  was 
home.  It  was  one  who  had  treated  him  badly — so 
badly  that  his  good  sesne  had  come  to  his  rescue. 
Yet  she  was  at  home  now,  loved  Hulda,  and  Hulda 
had  spoken  kindly  of  her.  Now  was  a  good  time  to 
show  the  world  he  didn't  care,  any  way. 

David  consulted  his  watch;  it  was  yet  early,  so  he 
turned  about  and  walked  across  the  schoolhouse 
flat,  along  the  stony  creek  bottom  and  up  to  the 
little  brown,  vine-covered  house  on  the  Beverly  farm. 

The  old  people  showed  their  happiness  at  once,  to 
see  him  come  again.  Grandmother  bustled  around, 
and  lit  the  lamp  in  the  house  to  call  them  in  from 
the  moonlit  porch.  Then  she  brought  milk  and  cake 
from  the  pantry.  Grandpa  brought  in  a  pan  of  frag- 
rant apricots,  while  Cis  shrank  into  a  large  rocker 
and  watched  David,  with  a  white,  thoughtful  face. 
She  had  suffered  much  in  her  short  life,  but  not 
through  one  like  David. 

When  the  picnic  was  spoken  of  the  color  warmed 
in  her  face,  and  later  she  followed  him  all  the  way 
down  the  orchard  path  to  the  gate,  and  spoke  of  the 
pleasure  it  would  be  to  her  to  go,  and  her  apprecia- 
tion of  his  thoughtfulness. 

About  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  on  the  day  of 
the  picnic,  Hulda  stood  with  La  Grange  on  the 
odorous  new  pine  platform,  arranging  with  him  just 
how  the  schools  should  come  up  onto  the  platform, 
when  they  sang  the  opening  ode  together.  She  wore 
her  new,  soft,  white  dress,  a  pretty  fresh  straw  hat, 


THE    PICNIC  l6l 

and  a  flutter  of  yellow  ribbons  around  her  neck  and 
waist;  the  mass  of  yellow  poppies  in  her  hand  had 
been  handed  up  to  her  by  some  of  her  pupils  just  as 
she  had  stepped  onto  the  platform. 

The  Fourth  of  July  is  seldom  anything  but  cloud- 
less in  the  lower  Sierra  regions,  but  a  light  breeze 
was  blowing  and  the  day  was  considered  perfect. 

The  grove  was  filling  with  a  miscellaneous  crowd 
of  people,  and  vehicles  of  all  sorts  hitched  under  the 
trees  formed  a  complete  circle  around. 

The  majority  were  plainly  dressed  people,  with 
faces  indicating  all  sorts  of  mental  and  moral  grades, 
and  their  garments  all  sorts  of  styles.  There  was  a 
sprinkling  of  persons  dressed  according  to  the  later 
modes,  prevalent  in  the  cities;  and  some  very  correct 
and  gallant  looking  beaus  were  escorting  some 
stylishly  dressed  young  ladies  around  the  grounds. 

Miss  Hunter  of  Enterprise  Mine  was  telling  her  in- 
timate friend  that  she  thought  the  Cherry  Valley 
school-marm  was  a  stumpy  looking  thing,  and  Miss 
Weaver,  daughter  of  the  leading  trustee  of  Bird's 
Flat,  remarked  to  her  rather  rotund  mother  that 
there  was  Edward  up  there  talking  with  that  Miss 
Hardy,  and  she  hoped  they  would  get  through  fixing 
things  up  some  time. 

In  truth  they  had  been  all  the  morning  "fixing 
things." 

They  had  borrowed  the  use  of  rooms  in  the  ad- 
jacent farmhouse  to  try  on  the  costumes  of  Brother 
Jonathan  and  the  Goddess  of  Liberty.  They  had 
compared  results  and  had  dismissed  the  two  children, 

David  of  Juniper  Guleii    jj 


l62  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER   GULCH 

for  so  they    considered   them,  to   divert   themselves 
till  the  second  dressing  time  came. 

Millie  was  full  of  extra  giggle,  and  Buck  noncom- 
municative;  and  Hulda  started  them  off  together, 
pleased  that  they  seemed  to  be  on  friendly  footing. 
While  she  was  standing  on  the  platform  talking  to 
La  Grange,  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  an  opening  in  the 
grove,  and  a  cry  of  surprise  escaped  her.  A  hand- 
some carriage  drawn  by  a  dashing  team  had  just 
come  up,  and  that  was  David  who  sprang  to  the 
ground  with  the  reins;  but  who  were  the  other  peo- 
ple? Would  La  Grange  excuse  her  for  a  few  minutes  ? 

The  young  man  escorted  her  to  the  steps  of  the 
platform  and  handed  her  down  gracefully. 

"Don't  forget  Miss  Liberty,"  he  said,  smiling. 

Hulda  pushed  her  way  through  the  crowd  and 
threw  her  arms  around  her  mother,  just  as  David 
lifted  her  to  the  ground. 

"And  Mr.  Cornman,  too!  Oh,  how  surprised  I 
am!"  she  cried.  "Well,  I  am  delighted!"  She  gave 
a  hand  to  each. 

Cis  in  a  black  dress  and  a  little  white  hat,  had 
been  arranging  the  sleeping  baby  in  the  carnage 
robes.  Mrs.  Hardy  drew  Hulda  aside. 

"We  didn't  know  she  was  coming,"  she  explained, 
"till  David  brought  her  this  mornnig.  But  she  has 
been  kind;  she  has  carried  the  baby  all  the  way  for 
me." 

David  wore  a  fine  black  suit,  was  clean  shaven  be- 
low his  mustache,  and  Hulda  complimented  him  on 
his  appearance.  He  had  found  an  excuse  to  draw 


THE    PICNIC  163 

her  aside,  by  showing  her  his  horses.  There  was 
something  he  wanted  to  say,  and  when  safe  from  the 
hearing  of  all  the  others,  he  began  his  humorous 
nonsense. 

"You  see,  Cornman  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer," 
he  said.  "He's  heard  all  about  your  fine  new  beau 
over  here,  and  the  poor  man's  nearly  crazy.  I  think 
he  wants  to  kill  that  Bird's  Flat  teacher.  Got  his 
pocket  full  of  self-loading  crayons.  Just  see  the 
team  he  hired,  Hulda.  How's  that  for  style?" 

Having  heard  enough  of  that,  Hulda  went  back  to 
the  others.  Whatever  the  little  embarrassment 
might  be,  she  was  glad  to  have  them  there.  They 
were  her  own  folks,  and  Mr.  Cornman  was  somewhat 
known  and  commanded  respect  any  where.  She 
was  trying  to  seat  them  all  near  the  platform,  when 
La  Grange  touched  her  arm. 

"You  will  have  to  come,"  he  said,  "I'm  afraid  there 
is  trouble.  Buck  wants  to  see  you." 

She  found  Buck  under  an  oak  tree  back  of  the 
platform.  He  wanted  to  tell  her  that  he  wouldn't 
march  around  with  Millie  Bates,  and  make  her  a 
little  speech  and  persent  her  with  a  garland;  that  he 
couldn't,  and  wouldn't  do  it,  for  all  the  money  in 
the  world.  He  simply  would  not,  and  she'd  have  to 
find  some  one  else. 

The  young  teacher  was  vexed  and  distressed,  but 
she  knew  better  than  to  be  angry  with  Buck.  She 
gave  him  her  sympathy;  something  surely  had  gone 
wrong  with  him.  She  knew  that  Buck  was  simple- 
hearted  and  meant  no  unkindness,  though  she  failed 


164  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

utterly  to  understand  his  varying  moods.  So  she 
spoke  only  kindly  and  regretfully,  and  soon  the  true 
reason  came  out.  Millie  had  again  punished  his 
sensitive  nature  by  an  unexplained  lapse  of  sobriety. 

Hulda  sighed.  Millie  was  not  really  capable  of 
making  fun  of  any  one,  and  the  cause  of  Buck's  many 
misunderstandings  of  her  moods  or  remarks  was  in- 
comprehensible to  her.  But  she  took  his  arm  and 
led  him  aside.  He  was  tall  and  well  dressed,  and 
made  a  desirable  escort,  as  escorts  were  rated  there. 

"I  know  you  must  be  wrong,"  she  said.  "Millie 
doesn't  make  fun  of  you.  If  she  has  I  will  make 
her  apologize.  Would  that  make  it  all  right,  if  I 
brought  her  and  made  her  apologize?" 

The  young  man's  face  brightened. 

"Will  you  wait  till  I  bring  her  here?" 

He  nodded  and  produced  a  stick  to  whittle. 

Then  the  anxious  teacher  had  a  futile  hunt  around 
the  grounds  to  find  her  Miss  Columbia.  La  Grange 
suggested  the  farmhouse,  and  'there  she  found  her 
in  the  parlor  alone  in  an  attitude  the  Goddess  of 
Liberty  had  never  been  known  to  assume,  and  shed- 
ding tears  in  a  highly  perfumed  handkerchief.  Hulda 
had  already  made  up  her  mind  to  humble  herself  to 
any  amount  of  coaxing,  so  she  put  her  arm  lovingly 
around  her  prostrate  model  for  a  Goddess. 

"You  poor  little  girl,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  mat- 
ter. Tell  me,  Millie  dear,  won't  you?" 

Millie  dropped  her  fair  head  on  her  teacher's  shoul- 
der and  sobbed. 

"Buck  is  dreadful  angry." 


THE    PICNIC  165 

"But,  Millie,  my  child,  you  must  not  make  fun  of 
him." 

"I  didn't,"  indignantly. 

"Millie!"  reprovingly. 

"Well,  I  didn't." 

"But  he  thinks  you  did,  dear,  and  you  must  go 
and  apologize,  for  it  is  nearly  time  to  begin  the  ex- 
ercises." 

"Won't  he  march,  if  I  don't?"  with  a  -flush  of 
blushes. 

"No,  Millie,  and  I  don't  blame  him.      Come  dear." 

Millie  took  from  her  pocket  a  bit  of  powder  in  an 
envelope,  and  her  willing  teacher  brushed  away  the 
traces  of  her  tears,  and  they  went  down  together  to 
the  spot  where  Buck  was  still  whittling,  with  averted 
face. 

"Buck, "-said  the  gentle  teacher,  "here's  Millie. 
She's  sorry  if  she  has  offended  you,  and  wishes  to 
apologize.  Come,  do  settle  your  trouble  and  get 
ready  for  the  march." 

Buck  looked  up  at  her  gratefully. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "You  go  on  up,  and  we  will 
be  there  in  a  minute." 

Hulda  left  them  and  waited  on  the  farmhouse 
porch.  They  came  up  more  like  pair  of  lovers  than 
school-children.  Millie  hanging  on  his  arm  content- 
edly, and  Buck  looking  proud  and  self  satisfied.  La 
Grange  followed  them,  and  Hulda  saw  a  curious  smile 
hovering  on  his  face  as  he  looked  at  her  over  their 
shoulders.  It  flashed  across  her  mind  that  La 
Grange  saw  more  in  their  rustic  reconciliation  than 


l66  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  circumstance  warranted,  but  she  had  no  time  to 
think  it  over. 

Shortly  after,  the  two  schools  in  couples  began  to 
march  around  on  the  platform  singing  "My  Country 
'Tis  of  Thee,"  after  which,  a  tall  Brother  Jonathan, 
resplendent  in  a  striped  and  starry  costume  led  a 
beautiful  and  dignified  Columbia  to  the  front,  and  the 
rest  thronged  about  singing  "Hail  Columbia,"  and 
waving  their  flags  with  appropriate  time  and  gestures. 

Buck  presented  the  placid  Columbia  with  a  gar- 
land of  green  bays  and  roses,  as  a  symbol  of  the 
country's  devotion;  and  repeated  his  lines,  omitting 
part  of  them,  however.  The  audience  broke  into 
the  wildest  applause;  it  made  no  difference  what  he 
said  or  omitted,  they  were  delighted  with  the  spec- 
tacle. 

La  Grange  then  took  charge  of  the  platform  and 
program,  adroitly  giving  the  Cherry  Valley  school 
teacher  a  prominent  seat  as  ftlaid  of  Honor  to  the 
fair  Columbia.  The  program  of  songs  and  recitations 
was  then  delivered,  and  the  audience  listened  with 
wonder  and  amazement,  for  no  teachers  in  those 
parts  had  ever  before  presented  such  a  literary  and 
artistic  entertainment.  Indeed  La  Grange  had  made 
the  best  of  his  material. 

Alex  Woods  was  a  shining  success  "Standing  on 
the  burning  deck"  as  Cassabianca. 

A  wild  looking  girl  with  a  tangle  of  black  hair,  who 
had  been  to  the  city  for  a  year,  made  a  successful 
"Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,  "and  the  leading  young 
lady  pupil  from  Bird's  Flat  made  "The  Bells"  ring 


THE    PICNIC  167 

and  swing  as  they  never  had  rung  and  swung  before. 

Then  the  leading  boy  pupil  of  Bird's  Flat  came  on 
with  a  speech  from  Webster  that  made  a  profound 
impression. 

A  young  lady  from  Bird's  Flat,  not  in  the  school, 
but  at  the  desire  of  La  Grange,  rendered  "The  Star 
Spangled  Banner,"  chorused  by  all  in  the  audience 
or  the  schools  who  would  sing. 

The  exercises  terminated  in  a  burst  of  long  contin- 
ued applause,  and  the  audience  and  children  then 
scattered  about  among  the  oaks  to  discuss  its  merits 
over  the  lunches,  that  were  soon  spread  on  white 
tablecloths  over  the  grass. 

Hulda  immediately  hurried  to  help  her  mother 
with  the  luncheon  for  their  little  party. 

Mr.  Cornman  was  moderately  enthusiastic  in  his 
praise  of  the  entertainment,  and  David  amused  him- 
self by  making  laudatory  statements  about  La  Grange, 
and  continually  asking  Hulda  to  verify  the  truth  of 
them. 

How  fond  the  people  were  of  him !  What  a  good 
voice  he  had!  What  easy  manners!  And  didn't 
Hulda  think  so,  in  every  case? 

Cis  tried  to  come  to  her  rescue,  and  protested 
gently. 

"Please  don't,  Dave.  Any  one  would  think  you 
were  making  fun  of  him."  Hulda  pressed  her  hand, 
and  David  looked  up  at  Cis  reflectively. 

After  the  remnants  and  the  dishes  had  been  re- 
packed by  the  two  girls,  Cis  and  David  suddenly 
walked  away  together,  and  the  Hardup  teacher,  in- 


1 68  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

cidentally  or  intentionally,  walked  out  of  hearing,  so 
that  Hulda  and  her  mother  had  an  opportunity  to 
talk  a  few  moments  confidentially.  They  were  dis- 
turbed by  the  harsh  sound  of  the  tuning  of  a  violin. 
They  looked  down  and  saw  that  the  people  were 
hurrying  to  the  platform  with  all  the  evidence  of 
pleasurable  excitement.  Hulda  saw  the  dark  head 
of  La  Grange,  as  he  stood  with  several  other  young 
men,  who  were  tuning  stringed  instruments.  A  girl 
gayly  dressed,  holding  a  guitar,  stood  smiling  down 
at  the  upturned  faces  about  her.  Hulda  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  real  motive  of  the  day  as  it  concerned 
most  of  the  crowd,  was  about  to  have  culmination. 
Young  men  were  hurrying  here  and  there,  and  the 
young  women  were  smiling  and  talking  with  new 
animation,  wherever  they  happened  to  be. 

The  violinists  finally  seated  themselves  on  a  corner 
of  the  platform,  and  a  stout  man  sprang  up  by  the 
players,  and  opened  the  affair  by  calling  out  in  a  loud 
voice: 

"Take  your  partners  for  a  quadrille." 

Immediately  a  press  of  oddly  assorted  couples 
filled  up  the  platform;  stiff  old  men  with  stout  wives, 
tall  men  with  little  girls,  boys  with  old  maids,  and  the 
belle  of  Bird's  Flat  with  her  father.  She  had  taken 
care,  however,  to  secure  a  standing  place  near  La 
Grange,  to  whom  she  addressed  her  remarks  while 
she  waited. 

Miss  Weaver  and  Miss  Hunter  were  with  the  hand- 
somest young  men  on  the  grounds.  While  perfectly 
at  ease,  and  apparently  happy,  Millie  and  Buck 


THE    PICNIC  169 

walked  arm  in  arm  to  a  corner  position.  Then  the 
music  and  calling  of  figures  began,  and  with  a  ming- 
ling of  graceful  and  grotesque  bows,  the  platform 
began  to  sound  and  shake  with  the  tramp  of  many 
feet. 

Mrs.  Hardy  was  mildly  distressed  that  there  should 
have  been  dancing  at  her  daughter's  picnic,  and  she 
was  not  interested  in  it,  even  as  a  picture  of  the  peo- 
ple's amusement;  so  Hulda  arranged  her  on  the  car- 
riage seats  and  robes  so  that  she  might  rest,  and  care 
for  Nonie,  and  went  and  found  Mrs.  Woods  to  come 
and  sit  with  her. 

This  accomplished  she  went  down  to  a  plank  seat 
near  the  platform,  for  she  was  particularly  interested 
in  the  dancing  of  Buck  and  Millie.  She  was  immedi- 
ately surrounded  by  several  of  her  young  school-chil- 
dren, who  leaned  upon  her  and  clung  to  her  hands. 
Then  Mr.  Cornman  came  gravely  and  sat  down  be- 
side her.  She  was  glad  of  the  protective  presence  of 
the  little  ones.  Deprived  of  the  chance  to  make  any 
personal  plea,  he  began  to  question  her  in  a  parental 
way  about  her  school.  She  followed  him  with  her 
replies,  and  managed  an  intelligent  conversation,  but 
her  mind  was  concentrated  on  the  curious  scene  be- 
fore her:  The  odd  coupling  of  old  and  young,  the 
new  lumber  platform,  redolent  of  the  odors  of  the 
mill,  and  the  background  of  great  shady  oaks. 

The  transformation  of  Millie  and  Buck  was  deeply 
interesting;  no  longer  slow,  awkward  school -children, 
but  a  graceful  young  man  and  woman,  the  handsomest 
couple  under  her  observation.  Whatever  their  cul- 


I7O  DAVfO    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

ture  in  other  things  may  have  lacked,  they  showed 
no  lack  of  it  here.  They  were  in  the  world  they  were 
best  fitted  to  occupy.  They  danced  with  grace  both 
forgetting  in  the  inspiration  of  the  violins  that  they 
had  ever  suffered  from  restraint  and  awkwardness. 
Despite  the  Methodistical  training  of  the  young  ob- 
server, a  feeling  of  real  pleasure  came  into  her  heart, 
that  here  was  an  occupation  in  which  these  young 
people  were  the  peers  of  all  around  them.  In  watch- 
ing them  so  closely,  Hulda  was  unconsciously  mem- 
orizing the  sequence  of  the  simple  figures,  when  sud- 
denly the  music  changed  to  a  waltz  tune,  Buck's  arm 
went  around  Millie's  waist,  and  they  glided  around 
and  were  lost  in  the  whirpool  of  the  crowd.  La 
Grange,  meanwhile,  was  smiling  at  Hulda  over  his 
violin,  and  discerning  something  of  her  thought,  as 
her  dark  eyes  dwelt  admiringly  on  the  forms  of  her 
pupils.  She  caught  the  glance  of  his  magnetic  eye, 
and  she  turned  to  Mr.  Cornman,  ashamed  of  her  in- 
attention to  him.  She  read  the  meaning  of  the 
glance  and  flushed  guiltily.  She  was  guilty  of  ad- 
miring that  of  which  she  did  not  approve.  La  Grange 
would  think  her  lacking  in  strength  of  mind.  When 
she  again  turned  to  the  platform,  David  and  Cis  were 
there  in  the  corner,  in  the  place  of  Buck  and  Millie. 
This  did  not  attract  her  so  much,  and  she  was  about 
to  go  back  to  her  mother,  when  a  light  touch  on  her 
arm  from  behind  stopped  her.  It  was  Buck,  no 
longer  her  pupil,  but  one  of  the  leaders  of  Cherry 
Valley  society. 

"Teacher,  don't  you  want  to  dance?" 


THE    PICNIC  171 

"Dance!"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  with  me." 

Hulda  heard  a  sound,  neither  a  laugh  or  a  groan, 
from  Mr.  Cornman,  so  she  hastily  took  Buck's  arm 
and  moved  away,  saying  to  him  as  she  walked,  "Why 
Buck,  you  know  I  can't  dance.  What  do  you  come 
to  me  for?" 

"Oh,  you  don't  have  to  know,"  presisted  Buck. 
"That  don't  make  no  difference.  You  can  dance  a 
quadrille  any  way.  I'll  teach  you." 

Hulda  then  stopped  and  faced  him  with  the  author- 
ity of  her  official  right. 

"Tell  me,  Buck,  did  Mr.  La  Grange  send  you  to 
me?" 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Hardy,"  he  replied  earnestly.  "It 
was  his  place  to  dance  with  you  first,  but  I  suppose 
he  couldn't  get  any  one  to  play  in  his  place.  I  just 
thought  I'd  come  and  get  you." 

Hulda  hesitated.  She  dreaded  the  necessity  of 
giving  offense  to  her  pupil,  who  could  never  under- 
stand her  reasons.  Then  the  idea  of  an  agreeable 
compromise  came  to  her. 

"Well,  I  appreciate  your  kindness,  Buck,  and 
though  I  can't  dance,  I'll  go  up  and  march  around 
with  you.  It  will  please  the  children  to  see  me  up 
there." 

"All  right,"  answered  the  young  man,  with  great 
satisfaction.  "Come  on.  They're  going  to  march 
now." 

Although  Hulda  went  reluctantly,  she  soon  found 
herself  enjoying  the  sensation  of  marching  around 


172  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCM 

to  the  strains  of  lively  music;  Buck's  pride  wasmani-> 
fest,  and  many  turned  to  her  with  smiles  of  welcome. 
All  at  once  things  began  to  change.  There  were 
swift  movements  all  around  her  and  the  call: 

"Balance  all.  First  couples  right  and  left,"  found 
her  in  the  center  of  the  platform  with  David  and  Cis 
in  front  of  her,  couples  swinging  at  the  right  and  left, 
and  no  way  of  escape. 

"Buck,"  she  pleaded,  with  a  horrified  look,  "can't 
you  get  me  out  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  returned,  coolly,  "you're  all  right. 
Strong  and  I  will  help  you  through.  I  know  Strong. 
Seen  him  lots  of  times."  He  held  her  arm  firmly. 
"No,  you  can't  get  out.  Watch  Strong's  girl,  and 
you're  all  right." 

"Swing  your  partners!" 

Buck  swung  her  around  with  perfect  skill.  Cis 
came  forward  with  a  smile,  and  took  her  hand,  and 
David  swung  her  again,  apparently,  however,  not 
knowing  who  she  was.  The  three  assistants  skillfully 
pushed  her  through  the  figure,  and  as  soon  as  she 
had  recovered  her  self-possession,  she  said  to  Strong: 

"Dave,  this  is  one    of  your    tricks."     David    only 
laughed. 

"Buck,"  she  said,  on  the  other  side  of  the  figure, 
"did  Mr.  Strong  send  you  for  me?" 

"Well,  yes,"  admitted  her  big  boy  pupil,  "but  I 
wanted  to  go  for  you  anyway.  All  the  folks  will  like 
you  better  if  you  dance." 

When  the  opportunity  came  the  four  made  their 
way  out.  Buck  bowed,  thanked  her  for  her  company 


THE   PICNIC  173 

and  went  away.  Hulda  walked  up  to  the  carriage 
with  David  and  Cis,  having  taken  a  distressing  lesson 
in  the  manners  and  .customs  of  the  country. 

David  was  hilarious — full  of  the  wildest  mirth,  and 
enlarged  upon  all  the  mirthful  powers  of  the  incident. 
Her  mother  had  a  grave  face,  but  Mrs.  Woods,  Cis, 
arid  even  Mr.  Cornman,  fell  into  the  spirit  of  the 
joke,  and  met  her  excuses  and  regrets  with  wit  and 
laughter. 

David  gravely  explained  to  Mr.  Cornman  that 
Hulda  was  about  to  marry  the  son  of  the  leading 
sheep  man  of  that  section,  and  Cis  was  laughingly 
sure  that  Hulda  must  have  taken  dancing  lessons; 
and  Mrs.  Woods  and  Mr.  Cornman  fell  into  a  serious 
discussion  on  the  general  subject  of  dancing.  Then 
when  they  had  all  quieted  down,  sitting  around  in  a 
careless  group  in  the  shade,  Hulda  surprised  them  all 
by  explaining  that  her  views  had  received  a  little  ad- 
justing and  that  she  could  see  no  harm  in  orderly 
dancing  in  the  open  air,  among  people  who  would 
be  at  a  loss  for  some  other  amusment. 

When  the  crowd  had  fairly  dispersed,  La  Grange 
sent  his  violin  home  in  a  farm  wagon,  mounted  his 
horse  and  galloped  off  down  the  ravine  where  Hulda 
was  slowly  disappearing  in  the  distance  on  Lila.  The 
day  had  been  of  all  work  to  him  and  no  pleasure,  and 
he  looked  forward  to  a  restful  ride  and  a  quiet  even- 
ing in  the  Woods  farmhouse,  with  the  only  girl  he 
knew  just  then,  whose  company  was  really  worth 
the  time. 

La  Grange,  yet  true  to  himself,  took    no    pleasure 


174  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

in  any  affair,  only  as  it  was  subservient  to  his  own  in- 
terests. He  would  have  regretted  the  time  spent  at 
the  picnic,  but  that  he  counted  it  so  much  gain  tow- 
ards his  acquaintanceship  and  popularity  in  the 
county.  His  law  books  were  dearer  to  him  than  any 
dance,  and  at  that  moment  he  carried  in  his  pocket  a 
little  French  grammar,  intending  to  ask  the  Cherry 
Valley  teacher  to  engage  with  him  in  the  study  of 
that  language.  When  he  overtook  her,  and  she 
turned  to  him  with  a  softening  of  her  dark  eyes,  he 
passed  the  book  to  her,  and  spoke  of  his  plan. 

"That  would  be  delightful,"  she'exclaimed,  her  face 
full  of  meaning.  "Let  us  begin  this  evening." 

"Yes,  we  will  begin,"  said  La  Grange,  with  a  se- 
rious glance  and  manner,  "when  you  have  explained 
to  me  why  you  have  so  suddenly  reversed  your  prin- 
ciples in  favor  of  a  handsomer  partner  than  I.  I 
believe  you  refused  to  dance  with  me  under  any  con- 
ditions whatsoever. 

A  vivid  flush  crept  over  the  girl's  cheeks,  and  she 
turned  her  face  away.  It  was  a  serious  matter  to 
her  if  he  cared.  She  did  not  see  the  smile  of  amuse- 
ment that  crossed  his  face.  Meanwhile  it  was  noth- 
ing to  him;  he  was  pleased  that  she  had  had  the 
political  good  judgment  to  place  herself  on  such  a 
generous  basis  with  the  country  people,  but  he  did 
enjoy  bringing  the  color  to  the  cheek  of  such  an  in- 
nocent and  good  meaning  girl. 

The  horses  slowed  into  a  walk,  and  Hulda  turned 
her  head  as  they  rode  into  the  shade  of  a  steep  hill, 
the  sun  setting  over  its  crest,  The  buckeyes,  man- 


THE   PICNIC  175 

zanitas  and  madrones  made  a  narrow    avenue,  and  a 
flock  of  quail  whirred  on  before  them. 

"But,  will  you  not  allow  me  to  explain,  Mr.  La 
Grange?" 

He  tried  to  continue  his  seriousness,  but  failed. 

"I  don't  see  what  explanation  you  can  make,  Miss 
Hardy.  You  chose  another  before  me.  That  is 
about  the  size  of  it." 

Hulda  lifted  her  eyes  and  smiled. 

"But  you  are  unfair,"  she  said,  "let  me  give  my 
evidence  and  then  pass  your  judgment." 

Then  as  she  explained,  he  persisted  in  asking  so 
many  puzzling  questions,  and  making  such  droll  re- 
marks, that  the  ponies  took  their  own  time,  and  it 
was  nearly  dark  when  they  rode  up  to  the  Woods 
farmhouse  and  found  Mrs.  Woods  at  the  orchard  gate 
looking  for  Hulda,  anxious  that  she  should  be  home 
in  time  for  tea.  . 

The  Woods'  home,  whenever  occasion  offered,  was 
always  open  as  a  public  house,  and  La  Grange  ex- 
plained that  he  wished  to  study  with  the  Cherry 
Valley  teacher,  at  once  engaged  accommodations  of 
her  for  the  night  for  himself  and  horse.  This  frank- 
ness of  purpose  was  usual  with  him. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Woods  drew  out  a  table  for  them, 
and  the  French  lessons  began,  the  class  being  en- 
larged by  Alex,  who  leaned  upon  his  teacher's  lap 
under  the  kindly  embrace  of  her  arm. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  LINE  FENCE. 

AS  they  all  sat  at  breakfast  in  the  morning  in  the 
little  dining-room,  Alex,  whose  quick  ears  caught 
every  sound,  left  the  table  and  ran  out.  He  soon 
ran  back  breathless,  with  wide  open  eyes. 

"Susie  Bates  's  out  here  on  the  gray  mare,"  he  cried, 
"and  she  says  Millie  must  be  here.  She  didn't  come 
home  last  night  at  all." 

Hulda  could  see  nothing  alarming  in  that,  but  as 
Mrs.  Woods  rose  immediately  and  went  out,  she  fol- 
lowed. 

Perched  oddly  on  the  back  of  the  large  mare  was 
little  Susie,  sobbing  and  shedding  tears.  She  wanted 
her  Millie.  Millie  slept  with  her.  Millie  had  never 
been  away  before,  and  altogether  her  heart  was 
broken  for  Millie. 

The  two  women  tried  to  comfort  the  little  girl  as 
best  they  could,  and  were  sending  her  away,  when  a 
spring  wagon  appeared,  containing  Mrs.  Bates  and 
the  eldest  boy,  and  it  soon  transpired  that  the  entire 
Bates  family  were  out  scouring  the  neighborhood  for 
Millie.  No  trace  of  her  had  been  found.  Then  Mr. 
Bates  came  dashing  up  on  a  great  black  horse,  throw- 
ing the  dust  and  charging  the  air  with  wild  vitupera- 

176 


THE    LINE    FENCE  177 

tions.     La  Grange,  with  the  balance  of  the   Woods 
family,  came  out  and  stood  around  the  spring  wagon. 

"Has  any  one  been  around  to  the  Dorms'  ranch? 
asked  La  Grange. 

"Oh,  she  wouldn't  be  there, "exclaimed  Mrs.  Bates, 
a  mild,  blue-eyed  woman,  with  an  expression  of  deep 
anxiety;  and  all  who  were  present  knew  that  none  of 
the  Bates  family  would  be  apt  to  inquire  at  that  farm. 

"Suppose,  however,"  continued  La  Grange,  with 
earnest  interest,  "that  I  saddle  my  horse  and  go  over 
there  and  inquire  for  her.  Some  of  them  may  have 
seen  her." 

This  awakened  the  wits  of  Alex,  whose  informa- 
tion on  all  subjects  coming  under  his  observation  was 
truly  remarkable. 

"I  bet  she  ain't  there,"  he  cried,  triumphantly.  "I 
bet  she  and  Buck's  eloped.  I  seen  him  kiss  her  at 
school,  and  the  boys  said  they  was  a  goin'  to." 

This  announcement  fell  on  the  company  at  first 
with  little  force,  but  the  effect  deepened  as  each  began 
to  reflect  upon  it.  La  Grange  looked  over  at  Hulda 
with  a  smile  of  comprehension.  Mrs.  Bates  gasped 
and  dropped  hysterically  into  a  heap  in  the  wagon. 

"The  fools,"  said  father  Bates,  getting  down  from 
his  horse  and  coming  to  aid  his  wife.  "They  can't 
get  married.  They're  both  under  age." 

This  was  a  heavy  blow  to  the  poor  mother  who 
had  been  awake  and  worrying  all  night,  She  began 
to  sob  with  uncontrollable  emotion. 

Then  Mrs.  Woods  and  Hulda,  with  the  assistance 
of  all  the    distressed    Bates    family,  lifted    her    from 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    12 


178  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  wagon  and  took  her  into  the  house  where  she  sat 
on  the  lounge  and  allowed  Hulda  to  bathe  her  head 
with  camphor. 

La  Grange  came  to  the  door  and  said  he  would  go 
over  to  the  Dorms'  ranch  anyway,  and  see  if  he  could 
find  out  anything  definite. 

It  was  several  hours  before  he  returned,  for  he  had 
ridden  about  to  find  some  clew  to  report.  His  report 
was  only  too  affirming. 

Buck  had  not  returned  to  his  home,  but,  as  he  fre- 
quently remained  away  over  night,  this  had  occa- 
sioned no  surprise  there.  But  La  Grange  had  finally 
interviewed  a  sheepherder,  who  had  heard  from  an- 
other sheepherder,  that  the  two  young  people  had 
been  seen  the  previous  evening  horseback  on  the  road 
that  led  to  the  County  seat,  and  the  two  shepherds 
had  seemed  to  understand  that  it  meant  an  elope- 
ment. 

La  Grange  broke  the  news  as  gently  as  possible 
to  the  stricken  mother,  and  indignant  father.  Bates 
was  angry  and  threatened  violence.  The  attention 
of  La  Grange  and  Mr.  Woods  was  turned  to  the  fact 
that  he  must  be  kept  there  till  his  anger  had  somewhat 
spent  itself.  There  would  probably  be  bloodshed,  if 
he  were  allowed  to  follow  the  couple,  or  go  to  the 
Dorms'  homestead. 

La  Grange  again  volunteered  to  go  to  the  Dorms* 
ranch  to  see  what  they  intended  to  do  in  view  of  the 
discovered  facts. 

As  the  affair  was  clearly  a  sequel  to  the  picnic,  he 
felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  do  what  he  could  to  prevent 
serious  trouble. 


THE    LINE    FENCE  179 

The  day  was  still  warm,  a  kind  of  a  day  they  call 
"hot"  there,  and  he  felt  relaxed  and  tired  as  he  rode 
along  noting  the  waves  of  heated  air  against  the  dry, 
red  hill  slopes.  The  vision  of  Hulda's  shocked,  dis- 
tressed look  troubled  him.  He  wondered  if  she  would 
hold  him  and  the  dance  responsible  for  this  catas- 
trophe. 

He  found  the  swarthy,  black-eyed  father  of  the 
"Dormses"  in  the  shade  of  his  house,  tilted  back  in 
his  chair,  and  smoking.  He  received  the  news  in 
silence  with  unchanging  expression.  Finally  he  re- 
moved his  pipe  and  held  it  a  moment  in  the  air. 

"It  just  serves  'em  right,"  he  said.  "If  Bates  had 
built  that  line  fence  years  ago,  them  young  uns 
wouldn't  ha'  got  in  so  much  courtin'.  Watchin' 
sheep  off'm  the  same  line  ain't  good  for  no  boy  and 
girl.  The  amount  of  it  is,  I  ain't  goin'  to  do  nothin'. 
Buck  can't  git  married,  nor  I  don't  want  him  to. 
Both  on  'em  under  age." 

Mrs.  Dorms  appeared  in  the  door  listening  in  sL 
lence.  It  was  evident  to  La  Grange  that  they  were 
enjoying  the  situation,  as  a  revenge  for  long  depreda- 
tions on  their  sheep  pasture.  Their  satisfaction 
seemed  to  be  complete,  and  Dorms  refused  to  take 
any  action  or  make  any  statements  in  regard  to  what 
he  desired  to  do.  or  have  done. 

La  Grange  hurried  back  to  the  Woods'  farm  house 
thaorughly  troubled  and  puzzled.  His  report  rilled 
the  house  with  mourning.  Bates  swore  that  Millie 
should  never  be  allowed  to  come  home,  and  poor 
Mrs.  Bates,  weeping,  begged  that  a  marriage  should 
somehow  be  arranged. 


l8o  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Blame  it,"  cried  Bates  in  wrath,  "we  can't  have 
a  marriage  without  old  Dorms'  consent!" 

La  Grange  was  eating  his  delayed  dinner  in  the 
dining-room,  Bates  was  outside  with  Woods,  swear- 
ing that  the  girl  could  go  to  Halifax,  and  Huldacame 
out  to  Mrs.  Woods,  who  was  kneading  bread  in  the 
kitchen.  Her  face  was  feverish,  and  her  eyes  were 
shining  with  purpose. 

"Mrs.  Woods,"  she  said,  "I  can't  stand  this  wait- 
ing and  suspense.  I  am  going  after  the  girl  myself. 
Can  I  have  Lila?" 

"Bates  will  never  let  her  come  home,"  answered 
Mrs.  Woods.  "He  means  just  what  he  says." 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  said  the  heroic  young 
teacher.  "I  feel  responsible.  It  was  our  picnic,  and 
our  exercises  may  have  helped  it  on.  If  I  can  find 
her  I  will  keep  her  till  they  are  old  enough  to  marry. 
For  the  sake  of  her  poor  mother,  I  am  going  anyway." 

"But  it  is  eighteen  miles,  and  most  of  it  a  lonely 
mountain  road,"  protested  Mrs.  Woods. 

"If  you  are  not  afraid  of  losing  Lila,  I  am  not 
afraid  for  myself,"  said  Hulda,  turning  away. 

She  hurried  to  her  room,  put  on  a  light  riding- 
habit,  and  went  to  the  barn  and  brought  out  Lila, 
saddled  and  bridled.  She  went  to  Mr.  Woods  for 
directions  as  to  her  way,  and  said  a  few  comforting 
words  to  the  mother,  and  hurried  away.  She  said 
nothing  to  La  Grange.  She  surmised  that  he  might 
offer  to  go  with  her  if  she  told  him,  and  she  did  not 
wish  him  to  think  that  she  had  deliberately  made  a 
plan  which  necessarily  involved  him. 


THE    LINE    FENCE  l8l 

Alex,  however,  who  had  heard  the  talk  in  the 
kitchen  and  had  ran  ahead  to  the  barn  to  help  with 
Lila,  came  to  him  and  faithfully  reported  it  all.  La 
Grange  fanned  himself  with  his  hat  in  the  shade  of 
the  porch,  and  kept  his  mind  to  himself. 

He  had  no  intention  of  letting  the  Cherry  Valley 
teacher  take  that  long  and  lonely  ride  alone.  She 
would  have  to  be  out  after  dark  and  was  liable  to 
meet  tramps  and  other  dangerous  characters  as  she 
neared  the  town.  But  he  wanted  to  see  that  Bates 
would  not  follow  in  an  irresponsible  state  of  mind.  He 
had  no  desire  to  be  implicated  in  any  shooting  trouble, 
and  for  his  sake  as  well  as  Hulda's,  he  wanted  as 
little  excitement  as  possible  to  follow  the  disastrous 
result  of  the  picnic. 

When  it  became  known  to  the  parents  that  Millie's 
teacher  had  gone  with  a  determination  to  find  her, 
Mrs.  Bates  became  calm  and  Bates,  after  another 
round  of  wrathful  and  expressive  words,  took  his 
family  and  went  home.  Then  Mrs.  Woods  remon- 
strated with  her  husband  for  allowing  the  teacher  to 
start  alone  on  a  really  hazardous  trip. 

Then  La  Grange  quickly  set  her  mind  at  rest 
"She  is  all  right  for  a  while,"  he  said,  "and  I  will 
overtake  her.      When  it  is  cooler  I  can  travel  faster.'* 

So  that  Hulda,  riding  through  a  lonely  gorge,  heard 
the  rapid  galloping  of  a  horse  on  the  hard  road  be- 
hind, and  grasped  her  reins  in  nervous  fear.  She 
was  already  feeling  the  effects  of  the  loneliness  and 
the  wildness  of  the  surroundings. 

Then  the  strains  of  a  lively   whistle   came   to    her 


1 82  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

ear,  and  she  drew  up  her  pony  with  an  overwhelming 
feeling  of  gladness  and  relief. 

As  he  came  up  she  turned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

"Why  did  you  come?"  she  said.  "Did  you  think  it 
would  need  us  both?" 

Then  a  sudden  thought  overwhelmed  her,  and  filled 
her  face  with  crimson.  Would  the  sheepherders  say 
they  were  eloping  too? 

La  Grange  may  have  divined  her  sudden  compre- 
hension. Any  way  he  had  thought  over  the  whole 
ground.  He  looked  at  her  flushes  and  felt  his  own 
color  mounting. 

"This  was  a  necesesity,"  he  said,  gravely.  "It  is 
unwise  and  unsafe  for  you  to  make  this  trip  alone. 
As  soon  as  we  find  Millie,  I  will  return." 

"Yes,  that  will  be  best,"  cried  Hulda,  with  sudden 
vehemence  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  till  the  next  day, 
that  this  generous  plan  to  save  her  any  mental  vex- 
ation,  meant  the  whole  night  in  the  saddle  for  him, 
and  no  rest  at  all. 

She  gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief.  Do  you  think  the 
picnic  was  to  blame?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"Do  you  think  the  dance  was  to  blame?"  he  asked, 
laughingly.  "A  family  feud  is  sure  to  bring  about  an 
elopement,"  he  continued.  "It  is  only  Romeo  and 
Juliet  over  again,  and  these  poor-children  never  heard 
of  the  Capulets  and  Montagues.  No,  it  was  sure  to 
come.  Were  they  learning  anything  in  school,  Miss 
Hardy?" 

Hulda  shook  her  head  and  bit  her  lip  with  vexation. 

They  came   into    a   deep    canon    with    the    water 


THE    LINE    FENCE  183 

rippling  over  the  rocks  below  them  and  the  tall  pines 
towering  overhead. 

The  birds  flew  here  and  there,  and  hid  in  the  si- 
lence of  the  forest.  Sometimes  a  bushy  grey  squirrel 
ran  across  the  road  and  up  a  tree.  In  after  years 
Hulda  could  not  forget  that  ride,  and  the  memory  of 
its  rare  pleasure  was  sweet  to  her,  when  all  the 
sweetness  of  her  young  life  seemed  gone  forever,  and 
all  other  memories  of  those  days  were  thrust  back  as 
poisonous  and  forbidden  fruits. 

As  the  shadows  grew  deep,  and  rich  with  the 
resinous  odor  of  the  pines,  the  romance  of  the  situa- 
tion occupied  some  thoughts  in  the  young  man's 
mind. 

"Happy  Buck, "  he  thought.  " He  has  no  untamable 
ambition  into  prevent  his  running  away  at  once  with 
the  lady  of  his  choice."  Then  after  a  long  silence  he 
challenged  Hulda  to  repeat  the  French  lesson  they 
had  studied  the  previous  evening. 

Happily  after  dark  the  moon  showed  itself  over 
the  peaks,  so  that  they  had  its  help  to  pick  the  way 
over  a  rocky  by-road. 

When  they  came  out  on  the  top  of  a  long    ridge, 
Hulda  knew  that  they  must  be  nearing   Forest  City. 

"Now,"  she  said,  and  her  caution  indicated  thought 
on  the  subject,  "we  must  make  some  plan  to  find 
them  without  causing  any  stir  in  the  town,  if  we 
can." 

"I  have  already  a  plan  in  my  head,"  answered  La 
Grange,  "and  I  think  you  will  like  it.  There  is  but 
one  livery  stable  in  town,  and  if  they  came  in  here 


184  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

late  last  night,  their  horses  were  put  there,  and  the 
boy  in  the  stable  will  be  liable  to  know  something 
about  them.  He  will  be  alone  at  this  time  of  night. 
You  had  best  stop  in  the  shade  of  the  building."  He 
drew  out  his  watch.  "It  is  only  half  past  nine,  and 
we  have  but  a  mile  more." 

Soon  the  lights  of  the  town  appeared  through  the 
scattered  pine  trees.  Hulda  was  silent,  grateful  to 
leave  all  the  managing  to  him.  La  Grange  did  not 
speak,  and  walking  their  horses  quietly,  they  entered 
the  town  by  a  back  streeet,  where  they  met  no  one, 
and  came  up  to  the  stable,  a  low,  unpainted, 
isolated  building. 

Hulda  drew  Lila's  rein  in  the  depth  of  the  shadow, 
and  La  Grange  rode  unconcernedly  into  the  open 
door,  lighted  feebly  by  a  lantern  that  hung  at  one 
side. 

"Hello,  there." 

A  shock-headed  boy  rolled  out  of  one  of  the  bunks 
in  a  little  room  at  the  right,  and  came  out,  closing 
the  door  behind  him. 

"What's  up?"  said  La  Grange  with  a  tone  of 
familiarity.  "Gone  to  bed  early — dance  last  night?" 

"Nop." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Nothin'." 

La  Grange  deliberately  alighted  from  his  horse, 
using  his  mind  and  his  eyes  in  the  meanwhile. 

"Give  my  horse  a  good  feed  of  hay,  won't  you? 
And  wash  him  down  in  the  morning." 

He  had  been  looking  down  the  room  at  the  hind 
quarters  of  a  row  of  horses. 


THE    LINE    FENCE  185 

"Could  I  get  another  horse  here  for  a  night  trip? 
Whose  horse  is  that  white  one  there?" 

"That's  Dormses,"  said  the  boy,  lifting  the  saddle 
from  La  Grange's  tired  animal.  La  Grange  smiled 
in  the  darkness- 

"Who  on  earth  is  Dorms?" 

"Friend  of  mine,  sir;  stopping  here,  give  him  a 
bunk." 

Well,  what  of  that?"  asked  the  school-teacher 
sharply,  as  if  irritated. 

"Don't  you  know,  sir?  Tried  to  elope!  Can't  get 
no  license.  Got  here,  one  o'clock  last  night  horses 
all  beat  out.  I  knowed  Buck.  Why,  I  sheared 
sheep  at  the  old  man's  ranch  last  May.  Never  had 
so  much  fun  in  my  life.  Buck  come  here  last  night 
too  bashful  to  get  a  room  for  his  girl.  I  took  her 
over  to  the  White  Pine  Hotel,  and  Buck  staid  here 
with  me." 

"What's  the  reason  they  didn't  get  married  to- 
day?" asked  La  Grange. 

"Couldn't  get  no  license.  Ain't  old  enough.  For- 
got to  bring  along  pairents  and  garjeans,"  and  the  boy 
chuckled  gleefully  over  his  joke. 

"Where  is  the  young  man  now?" 

"Here  in  a  bunk,  asleep." 

"What  are  they  going  to  do?" 

"Stranger  you  don't  live  around  here?" 

"No." 

"Traveling?" 

"Been  traveling  all  day." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you.     We  got  it  all  fixed  up. 


1 86  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

They're  going  to  skip  to  Sacramento  on  the  train  in 
the  morning.  Nobody  knows  'em  there,  and  they 
can  swear  in,  some  way." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do,"  said  La 
Grange.  "You  hire  me  his  horse  for  to-night.  I'll 
leave  mine  here,  and  your  young  man  won't  need  his 
horse." 

The  boy  saw  the  profit  for  himself  in  the  arrange- 
ment, and  chuckled  again. 

"Want  him  now,  sir?" 

"Yes,  put  my  saddle  on  him,  I'm  ready  in  a 
moment." 

La  Grange  came  out,  took  Lila's  bit  and  walked 
further  away  from  the  stable. 

"Do  you  see  that  lamp  hanging  from  the  porch 
across  the  vacant  lot  ?"  he  said  softly.  "That  is  the 
White  Pine  Hotel.  Millie  is  there  and  alone.  Ride 
over  and  strike  on  a  pillar  with  your  whip  to  call 
some  one.  Simply  state  that  you  came  to  stay  with 
Mr.  Bates'  daughter,  and  ask  the  proprietor  to  take 
your  horse.  To-morrow  you  can  tell  Buck  I  changed 
horses  with  him.  I'm  hungry,  but  I'll  steal  some 
peaches  from  an  orchard  out  of  town.  Don't  let 
them  escape  you  to-morrow.  Coax  them  to  come 
with  you  if  you  can.  If  you  can't  do  it,  no  one  can. 
But  I  believe  they  are  determined  to  elope  anyway. 
I  will  try  to  arrange  for  a  marriage  if  I  can,  and  send 
you  help.  Now,  good-night." 

Hulda  gave  him  her  warm,  ungloved  hand. 

"Oh,  how  I  thank  you.  How  good  you  are.  You 
are  so  quick-witted,  you  can  do  almost  everything," 
she  said  with  warm  enthusiasm. 


THE   LINE   FENCE  187 

"You  are  the  good  one,"  he  said.  "I  only  wanted 
to  help,  and  save  the  fame  of  our  picnic,  I  will  ad- 
mit to  you  now,  this  is  a  very  serious  thing — I  want 
to  see  the  marriage  arranged." 

He  was  still  holding  her  hand.  You  must  be  very 
tired.  Good-night,  dear." 

The  word  came  from  him  with  brotherly  tender- 
ness. With  this  last  word  warming  her  cheek  and 
heart,  Hulda  galloped  Lila  up  to  the  porch  of  the 
White  Pine  Hotel,  rapped  with  her  whip,  and  both 
the  landlord  and  his  wife  came  out  to  receive  her. 

Upon  hearing  her  simple  statement  of  her  errand, 
the  landlady  bustled  around  with  an  apparent  feeling 
of  relief,  and  ushered  the  new-comer  upstairs  into  a 
little  room  where  Millie  lay  on  the  bed,  and  as  usual, 
in  a  state  of  tearful  helplessness. 

When  Buck  Dorms  went  to  the  station  early  the 
next  morning,  to  meet  Millie  as  arranged,  he  placed 
himself  at  a  corner  where  he  could  look  furtively  in 
all  directions.  But  suddenly  a  firm  hand  was  slipped 
through  his  arm,  and  he  started  nervously,  to  look 
down  into  the  composed  smiling  face  of  his  teacher. 
He  felt  a  troublesome  foreboding  that  he  would  be 
detained  by  some  one,  but  he  had  expected  it  in  the 
form  of  some  masculine  force,  that  he  might  elude 
by  running  around  the  building  and  escaping  in  the 
forest.  But  to  be  stopped  by  the  calm-eyed  Miss 
Hardy,  who  had  her  own  peculiar  and  irresistible 
way  of  governing  him,  unnerved  him,  and  unfitted 
him  to  use  his  pre-arranged  plan  of  action. 

"Come  around  to  the  hotel,  Buck,  I  want   to   talk 
to  you,"  she  said. 


1 88  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Who's  at  the  hotel?" 

"No  one,  only  Millie." 

"Well,  I  ain't  stopping  with  Millie,  or  going  any- 
where with  Millie,"  he  said,  rallying  to  his  line  of  de- 
fense. 

"Well,  come  and  see  her,  can't  you?"  she   smiled. 

Buck  was  apprehensive,  and  suspected  stratagem, 
possibly  Mr.  Bates  or  the  sheriff. 

"We  can  talk  just  as  well  here,"  he  said,  "or  we 
can  walk  over  by  them  pines  there."  He  still  ap- 
preciated a  nearness  of  the  trees. 

"Well,  that  will  do,"  she  said  kindly.     "Come." 

In  a  short  distance  they  were  out  of  sight  of  the 
straggling  first  arrivals  at  the  station,  and  he  listened 
patiently  while  she  explained  to  him  the  utter  folly 
of  trying  to  get  married  in  an  illegal  way,  and  urged 
him  to  wait  till  he  was  of  age. 

"And  Millie  and  me  go  home?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  hesitatingly.  "If  her  parents 
won't  take  her  back,  I  will  take  her.  I  feel  re- 
sponsible." 

"Not  much  you  wont,"  interrupted  Buck.  "I'll 
take  her  myself.  She's  not  going  to  be  on  charity. 
I  run  off  with  her,  and  I'm  going  to  marry  her.  If 
you've  stopped  us  it's  all  the  same,  we'll  get  off  some 
way  in  less  than  a  week.  It's  time  we  got  married. 
Millie  and  me's  been  engaged  ever  since  we  herded 
sheep  barefoot.  We're  all  the  time  havin'  sort  o' 
rows  because  we  can't  explain  to  each  other,  and 
Millie  cries  too  much.  I'm  goin'  to  win  this  thing 
up.  I've  got  a  hundred  dollars,  and  lots  of  fellers 
gets  married  on  less  than  that/' 


THE    LINE   FENCE  189 

"But  that  isn't  it,"  Hulda  protested.  "You're  too 
young,  you  can't  arrange  it  legally." 

Buck  laughed. 

"Yes,  but  Millie  ain't  too  young  for  old  Bates  to 
be  scheming  to  marry  her  to  Bill  Cruiks.  If  I  let 
this  go  by,  I'll  lose  her  sure.  Have  you  talked  to 
Millie?  What  does  she  say?" 

"She  refers  everything  to  you." 

"Good  for  her!"  laughed  the  young  man.  "That's 
what  I  told  her  to  do.  You're  awful  good,  Miss 
Hardy.  You  can  stay  with  Millie  if  you  want  to,  but 
'tain't  no  use,  we're  goin'  to  run  off  now,  or  pretty 
soon  after.  Father'll  give  in  if  we  stay  away.  He 
wants  me  home  with  the  sheep." 

"But  Buck,"  cried  Hulda,  "will  you  keep  Millie 
away  and  not  get  married?" 

"Don't  care,"  he  said  stubbornly.  "Is  Bates  a 
comin'?" 

"They  have  discarded  Millie  forever,"  she  said 
sadly.  "She  is  mine  now,  I  have  taken  her."  He 
shook  his  head;  he  was  whittling  a  stick  violently. 

"I  reckon  she's  mine." 

The  young  teacher  found  that  she  had  come    to    a 
stone  wall,  but  she  had  made  up    her    mind    to    stay' 
with  Millie  till  something  could  be  done. 

The  presence  of  his  teacher  seemed  to  develop  in 
Buck  a  more  manly  and  open  feeling,  and  presently 
he  walked  to  the  hotel  with  her,  kissed  Millie  when 
he  met  her  in  the  hall,  and  took  breakfast  with  the 
two  girls.  Afterwards  Hulda  and  Millie  sat  in  the 
public  parlor  together,  while  Buck  lounged  in  and 


1 90  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

out,  no  longer  afraid  of  a  sudden  attack  from  some 
Cherry  Valley  reserve  force.  For  Hulda  had  finally 
told  him  that  La  Grange  was  trying  to  make  some 
peaceable  settlement  between  the  parents  for  a  mar- 
riage. 

"You  bet,"  said  Buck,  forcibly,  "La  Grange  knows 
well  enough  that  when  one  of  us  fellers  gets  away 
with  a  girl,  we  mean  business.  He's  used  to  these 
here  mountains." 

Hulda  sighed  wearily. 

Meanwhile  La  Grange  had  undertaken  a  task  that 
was  taxing  his  inventive  faculties  to  the  utmost.  He 
took  breakfast  and  a  few  hours  of  sleep  at  the  Woods' 
farmhouse.  But  the  anger  of  father  Bates  had  not 
in  the  least  abated.  Mrs.  Bates  was  comforted  to 
know  just  how  things  were  at  Forest  Grove,  but  it 
was  clear  that  she  had  no  influence  with  her  husband. 
He  was  reluctantly  willing  to  agree  to  a  marriage, 
if  Dorms  gave  his  consent,  but  married  or  not,  his 
girl  should  never  come  home,  La  Grange  then  dis- 
covered that  the  main  cause  of  offense  was  that  a 
certain  wealthy  Bill  Cruiks  held  the  mortgage  on  the 
Bates'  ranch,  and  was  waiting  to  marry  Millie.  Ob- 
viously, even  in  case  of  Millie's  return,  that  marriage 
was  broken  up. 

La  Grange  found  Dorms,  as  before,  smoking  in  the 
shade  of  the  house.  He  motioned  to  La  Grange  to 
take  a  seat  on  a  bench  near  him,  listening  in  stoic 
silence  to  what  he  had  to  say.  Mrs  Dorms  stood  in 
the  doorway,  and  the  various,  dark-eyed  little 
Dormses  hid  around  the  corners,  showing  occasion- 
ally a  glimpse  of  a  black  head  or  a  pink  dress. 


THE    LINE   FENCE  IQI 

La  Grange  calmly  stated  the  case,  saying  that 
public  sentiment  demanded  that  he  should  either  go 
ahead  and  force  his  son  to  come  home,  or  give  his 
consent  to  a  marriage.  Dorms  finally  removed  his 
pipe,  and  ejaculated,  "Let  Buck  alone.  Why  don't 
they  go  and  get  the  girl  ?" 

"Getting  is  not  keeping,"  answered  La  Grange, 
evasively. 

"Wall,  I  can't  do  nothin'.  If  I  give  in  and  have 
them  youngones  get  married,  Bates  won't  build  that 
line  fence  from  now  on  to  eternity." 

Both  were  silent,  and  La  Grange  newly  discour- 
aged, rose  to  go.  He  stood  grinding  his  heel  reflect- 
ively in  the  ground,  when  a  positive  idea  occurred  to 
him  and  he  turned  and  sat  down. 

"Suppose,  Mr.  Dorms,"  he  said,  "that  we  could 
get  Bates  to  agree  to  put  up  that  line  fence.  Would 
you  then  consent  to  do  something?" 

The  pipe  came  out  then  in  a  hurry,  with  scattering 
ashes,  and  Buck's  father  laughed  long  and  loud. 
Mrs.  Dorms  sat  down  in  the  door-way  with  a  sigh. 

"Bates  build  that  fence!"  cried  Dorms.  "Why, 
sir,  you  couldn't  get  him  to  put  up  a  foot  of  that  fence 
for  all  the  gals  in  the  west.  Fight  for  ten  years  and 
then  put  up  that  fence!  Not  much.  I'll  bet  you 
fifty  dollars  he  won't  set  a  foot  of  it." 

"I'm  not  betting, "answered  the  amateur  diplomat, 
"but  I  think  he'll  put  up  his  half  of  the  fence,  if  you 
settle  this  trouble  one  way  or  the  other." 

"No,  he  won't.  Can't  agree  on  the  lines."  Hav- 
ing thus  settled  the  affair  positively,  he  went  on  smok- 


192  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

ing,  and  La  Grange  bent  his  head  in  his  hands  in 
silent  thought. 

"Why  don't  you  have  it  surveyed?" he  asked,  after 
a  time. 

He  had  come  to  the  point.  It  was  originally  a 
matter  of  dollars  and  cents,  and  still  was. 

"Survey,"  cried  the  economical  farmer.  "I  won't 
pay  for  no  survey  to  help  Bates.  I  ain't  got  no  money 
to  spend  on  a  survey." 

La  Grange  walked  to  the  corner  and  back,  scatter- 
ing a  flock  of  little  Dormses. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "now,  see  here.  I  can  survey 
those  lines  for  you,  and  it  won't  cost  you  a  cent. 
I'm  not  the  County  Surveyor,  but  I  can  get  the  lines 
all  right." 

Dorms  gave  a  long,  low  whistle  and  stared  at  him 
in  studious  silence. 

"You'll  survey  it,  and  Bates' 11  put  up  his  half  of 
the  fence,  you  say?" 

"That's  my  proposition."  La  Grange  walked 
about  nervously  and  waited. 

Finally  the  old  man  rose  with  a  grunt,  and  walked 
slowly  into  the  low  kitchen.  Mrs.  Dorms  had  been 
watching,  and  she  followed  him,  saying  eagerly: 

"Sam,  that  girl  of  Bateses  is  the  best  cook  on  the 
Creek." 

Then  Dorms  opened  an  old  trunk,  took  out  a  pack- 
age and  caried  it  to  La  Grange. 

"Here's  my  deeds,"  he  said.  "Now  you  get  an  agree- 
ment from  Bates  to  build  his  half  of  the  fence,  and  you 
can  tend  to  the  survey  when  you  get  ready." 


convinces  Dorms. 


David  of  Juniper  Gulch. 


THE    LINE   FENCE  193 

He  returned  and  conferred  with  his  wife,  and  came 
and  announced  the  result. 

"I  ain't  got  no  horses  up,  but  if  Mrs.  Bates  will 
come  over  with  their  team,  me  and  the  old  woman 
will  go  up  to  Forest  Grove  with  her,  and  either  bring 
them  young  uns  home,  or  git  'em  married,  accordin' 
to  how  they  act." 

La  Grange  hurried  to  Mrs.  Bates  with  the  good 
news,  saw  her  start  away,  then  again  borrowing 
Buck's  horse,  went  home  to  Bird's  Flat. 

It  was  nearly  sundown  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dorms 
and  Mrs.  Bates  arrived  at  the  White  Pine  Hotel. 
The  two  women  pleaded  in  vain  with  the  young  peo- 
ple to  wait  a  few  years,  while  the  elder  Dorms  sat 
outside  and  smoked.  He  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  preliminaries.  Later,  however,  he  went 
with  his  son  to  hunt  up  the  County  Clerk.  A  license 
was  secured,  and  a  Methodist  preacher,  who  happened 
to  pass  the  White  Pine  Hotel  on  his  way  to  his  even- 
ing services,  was  called  in  to  perform  the  cere- 
mony. 

Then  Hulda  had  another  night's  ride  on  Lila 
through  the  canons  and  the  forests  accompanied  by 
the  young  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dorms,  the  spring  wagon 
with  the  elders  rattling  behind. 

In  her  own  room,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  she  drew  her  right  glove  from  her  warm  right 
hand,  she  held  it  lingeringly  to  her  Irps.  It  was  the 
hand  La  Grange  had  held  in  the  darkness  at  Forest 
.Grove.  Obviously  managing  the  elopement  affair  of 
whilom  shepherdess  and  her  swain,  was  not  just 

n 


194  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  best  thing  for  two  school-teachers,  who  had  not 
the  least  intention  of  falling  in  love  with  each 
other. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SUMMER  DAYS. 

Had  La  Grange  been  a  practicing  lawyer  he  might 
not  have  been  willing  to  settle  the  Cherry  Creek  feud 
by  making  a  survey  of  a  line  fence.  He  might  have 
preferred  to  see  the  whole  matter  go  into  law,  to  stay 
in  law  for  several  generations. 

As  it  was,  it  was  the  most  telling  blow  he  ever 
struck  on  the  wedge  of  his  own  popularity  in  those 
parts.  He  made  no  sceret  of  the  fact  that  he  wished 
to  be  called  on  by  the  public  for  all  sorts  of  friendly 
and  neighborly  affairs,  and  perhaps  others  besides 
Hulda  knew  of  his  direct  political  aspirations. 

Yet  the  motive  for  giving  away  two  of  his  valuable 
Saturdays  in  surveying  a  line  fence  over  a  rocky  hill 
and  gulch  was  not  a  purely  selfish  one.  A  natural 
good-heartedness  led  him  to  propose  it,  and  that  he 
carried  it  out  correctly  was  due  to  the  quick  witted- 
ness  and  general  ability,  that  so  far  in  life  had  been 
his  sure  and  shining  star. 

Neither  was  his  motive  particularly  complex.  He 
liked  to  survey,  he  liked  to  settle  local  difficulties, 
and  he  enjoyed  the  public  thanks. 

Whether  Cherry  Valley  held  further  attractions 
for  him  was  not  so  obvious.  La  Grange  was  not  give* 

195 


196  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

to  making  love  as  a  pastime,  and  he  had  no  inten- 
tion of  considering  any  young  woman  as  a  probable 
sweetheart  or  wife.  His  mind  and  heart  were  set  on 
his  own  particular  bright  stars  of  fame  and  fortune — 
the  law,  public  trust,  and  possibly  public  honor. 

He  sought  the  society  of  the  Cherry  Creek  school 
teacher,  as  he  sought  any  good  thing  that  was  con- 
ducive to  his  ends,  openly  and  with  honest  frankness. 
So  generally  did  the  public  look  upon  him,  as  a  young 
man  with  a  single  ambition,  that  no  one  thought  of 
suspecting  him  of  matrimonial  designs. 

His  visits  to  the  Woods'  farmhouse  occasioned  no 
remark,  although  they  might  have  raised  the  secret 
envy  of  certain  Bird's  Flat  young  ladies  who  would 
have  been  willing  to  wait,  even  seven  years  for  him, 
with  very  good  grace. 

On  the  Friday  evening  after  the  picnic,  he  arrived 
at  the  Woods'  home  just  as  the  lamp  was  being 
lighted  in  the  sitting  room.  He  produced  immedi- 
ately for  Hulda's  inspection,  several  pocket  plays  of 
Shakespeare  and  a  new  book  on  law,  that  evidently 
gave  him  great  pleasure.  It  was  an  advantage  to  him 
to  know  a  young  person  interested  in  literary  studies, 
to  whom  he  could  carry  every  fresh  or  pleasing 
thought  or  discovery. 

If  the  young  girl  had  looked  forward,  dreading  em- 
barrassment in  their  next  meeting,  that  fear  was 
pleasantly  dispelled  by  his  candid,  earnest  manner, 
and  his  lively  interest  in  new  thoughts  and  activities. 

"Perhaps  you  will  think  I  am  stealing  time  of  the 
state,"  be  said,  "I  have  read  King  John  this  week 


SUMMER  DAYS  197 

at  my  noon  recesses.  I  toss  ball  half  an  hour  with 
the  boys  and  then  I  take  fifteen  minutes  for  King 
John." 

The  girl  simply  stated  that  she  knew  very  little  of 
Shakespeare.  La  Grange  looked  at  her  with  a  slight 
contraction  of  the  brow,  peculiar  to  him. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "that  won't  do.  You  must 
read  him.  I  will  leave  this  Henry  the  Fifth  here  with 
you.  You  will  enjoy  Katherine  any  way.  Read 
Katherine  and  King  Henry,  the  last  scene  first,  and 
then  you  will  want  to  read  it  all.  Now,"  he  contin- 
ued, as  she  looked  into  the  book,  "suppose  we  sit 
down  and  see  if  we  can  write  that  French  verb  from 
memory.  I  am  not  very  sure  I  can  do  it.  I  have 
been  so  busy  this  week." 

Hulda  seated  herself  opposite  to  him,  and  with 
bashful  little  Trummy  Woods  hiding  his  face  in  her 
lap,  she  wrote  the  exercise  quite  to  the  satisfaction 
of  her  exacting  teacher. 

After  an  hour  with  the  books,  they  joined  the 
Woods  family  in  the  porch,  where  they  were  enjoying 
the  starlight  and  a  balmy  cooling  breeze  that  had  risen 
after  the  heat  of  the  day.  La  Grange  leaned  back, 
and  Hulda,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  porch,  could 
see  his  face  in  a  bar  of  light  from  the  window.  He 
and  Mr.  Woods  began  speaking  of  the  proposed  sur- 
vey on  the  morrow,  and  Mrs.  Woods  turned  to  tell 
Hulda  that  she  had  seen  Buck  Dorms  pass  by  that 
day  with  a  load  of  lumber,  and  that  the  site  of  the 
house  had  been  fixed  on  a  certain  little  hill  in  sight 
of  the  schoool-house.  Then  a  bucket  of  cool,  fresh 


198  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

grapes  were  brought,  and  La  Grange  said  there  were 
no  grapes  on  Bird's  Flat.  He  prophesied  the  day 
when  Cherry  Valley  would  be  set  out  in  oranges.  Mr. 
Woods  thought  it  was  a  wild  idea,  and  Mrs.  Woods 
and  Hulda  retired,  leaving  them  discussing  the  sub- 
ject in  all  its  branches.  • 

The  next  evening  was  spent  in  very  much  the  same 
way  at  the  farmhouse,  and  Sunday  morning  La 
Grange  went  away  in  the  cool  of  the  morning  before 
Hulda  awoke. 

The  following  Friday  evening  there  was  more 
French  and  more  Shakespeare  in  the  same  quiet  way. 
There  was  some  amusement  over  the  fact  that  Bates 
had  employed  his  new  son-in-law  to  build  the  line 
fence  as  soon  as  the  survey  should  be  completed. 

There  had  been  a  hot  week  along  the  foothill  range. 
The  red  slopes  and  white  rocky  river  beds  grew  red- 
der and  whiter  in  the  glaring  sun.  The  creeks  in  the 
gorges  hushed  every  day  some  murmuring  sound,  and 
became  silent  behind  great  rocks,  and  under  banks, 
in  deep  and  mirror-like  pools. 

The  dusty  roads  were  deserted,  and  the  fruits  in 
the  home  orchards  fell  to  the  ground  in  their  luscious 
ripeness,  and  the  children,  feasting,  refused  to  go  to 
their  regular  meals.  All  the  slopes  and  little  flats, 
that  not  many  years  later,  were  turned  into  beautiful 
orchards,  lay  hot  and  silent,  but  for  the  tinkling 
cowbells  in  the  wooded  hollows. 

La  Grange,  walking  over  a  hot  hillside  all  that 
Saturday  forenoon,  had  at  last  found  a  government 
post,  the  loss  of  which  had  caused  local  land  troubles 


SUMMER    DAYS  199 

for  many  years.  A  prospector,  wishing  to  start  a 
shaft  under  a  government  corner,  had  thrown  out  the 
post  with  his  shovel  and  covered  it  with  the  dirt  and 
rock  from  his  opening.  Having  brought  it  to  light 
La  Grange  sighted  the  last  line  inwhich  his  work  was 
concerned,  gave  Buck  a  few  final  directions  ,  and  his 
task  was  done. 

He  returned  to  the  Woods'  farmhouse;  his  books 
were  there,  and  he  could  go  to  Bird's  Flat  as  well  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening.  As  he  rode  slowly  along  the 
creek  road  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  oppression 
and  weariness  unusual  to  him.  His  life  was  one  of 
constant  toil  and  application  in  some  way  or  other, 
and  it  was  not  unnatural  that  he  should  begin  to  feel 
its  wear  this  hot  day  in  July. 

At  the  farmhouse  he  tied  his  horse  under  a  tree 
in  the  lane,  and  went  around  to  the  shaded  north 
porch.  The  Cherry  Valley  school-teacher  was  seated 
on  the  edge  of  the  porch  where  it  joined  the  little 
wing  of  her  room.  Her  white  dress  lay  in  spotless 
folds  around  her,  and  her  hands  were  folded  over  a 
blue  volume  in  her  lap.  Her  head  lay  back  against 
its  frame  of  dark  hair  and  her  eyes  were  closed  over 
the  thoughts  that  were  absorbing  her  mind.  She 
had  discarded  her  Alice  and  Katherine  for  Aurora 
Leigh,  Aurora  seemed  like  a  sister  and  friend,  and 
her  noble  deeds  and  sweet  counsels  were  comforting 
to  her.  She  did  not  even  dream  in  her  simple  virtue 
that  she  in  her  one  practical  deed  had  been  as  noble 
as  the  ideal  and  elevated  English  character.  She 
could  not  draw  any  comparison.  She  only  took 
Aurora  to  her  heart  and  it  comforted  her. 


200  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

La  Grange,  warm,  dusty  and  tired,  sat  down  as 
silently  as  he  had  come,  and  looked  at  the  cool, 
charming  picture;  but  only  for  a  moment.  His  throb- 
ing  head  grew  light,  and  Hulda  started  up  to  see  him 
leaning  against  a  post,  with  closed  eyes  and  droop- 
bing  head.  The  girl  followed  her  only  impulse,  that 
was  to  run  to  his  aid.  She  took  his  head  on  her  arm 
and  fanned  him  violently  with  his  hat.  A  moment 
after,  when  he  opened  his  eyes,  he  felt  for  a  second 
the  sensation  of  being  in  a  new,  white  world,  as  en- 
trancing as  it  was  fleeting;  she  had  gone,  but  he 
closed  his  eyes  again  to  hold  the  vision  of  the  white, 
round  shoulders  above  his  head,  and  the  white  face 
and  tender  dark  eyes  so  close  over  his  forehead. 

She  returned  quickly  with  the  lounge  cushion  and 
a  glass  of  water,  both  of  which  he  accepted  speech- 
lessly. Then  she  came  again  with  a  handkerchief 
dripping,  which  she  folded  on  his  brow.  The  color 
was  warming  up  in  her  face  then,  and  she  gave  a 
quick  sigh  of  relief,  as  he  lay  down  with  the  cushion 
under  his  head. 

"Now,  I  am  going  to  call  Mrs.  Woods,"  she  said. 
She  turned  to  go,  but  that  moment  he  was  holding 
her  hand. 

"Thank  you,"  he  whispered. 

She  darted  away. 

Mrs.  Woods  came  with  her  usual  kind  solicitation, 
but  the  girl  kept  in  the  background.  She  had  sud- 
denly grown  shy.  La  Grange  sat  up,  took  a  stimu- 
lating drink  that  Mrs.  Woods  brought,  and  professed 
himeslf  better,  and  honestly  ashamed  of  his  attack  of 


SUMMER   DAYS  2OI 

weakness.  He  said  he  had  never  even  felt  the  sen- 
sation of  faintness  before,  but  he  believed,  that  for  a 
moment,  he  had  been  unconscious.  Mrs.  Woods 
brought  out  a  large  rocking  chair,  which  he  gratefully 
accepted,  and  sat  slowly  recovering,  fanning  himself 
with  his  hat. 

Mrs.  Woods  brought  out  her  sewing,  and  Hulda 
resumed  her  former  seat  and  her  book,  throwing  up 
occasionally  a  shy  glance  at  the  patient,  who  was 
regarding  her  furtively  behind  his  hat  with  an  expres- 
sion and  manner  quite  unlike  himself. 

La  Grange  left  at  sundown,  Mrs.  Woods  and  the 
Cherry  Valley  school-teacher  going  with  him  to  the 
orchard  gate,  where  he  had  left  his  horse,  and  both 
expressing  regrets  to  see  him  go  so  worn  and  tired. 
He  gave  a  hand  in  parting  to  each  of  the  women, 
they  being  on  opposite  sides  of  his  horse,  and  Mrs. 
Woods  did  not  see  that  he  held  the  younger  woman's 
hand  till  she  drew  it  away. 

He  turned  several  times  to  look  back  from  the 
Creek  road  to  see  Hulda' s  white-robed  form  standing 
alone  by  the  gate.  His  strongest  impulse  was  to 
conjure  up  an  excuse  to  remain.  He  had  received 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  shock.  Some  impres- 
sion had  come  to  him  that  he  could  not  define  or 
readily  cast  off.  This  intellectual,  yet  strangely 
crude  girl,  had  suddenly  seemed  to  become  glorified 
in  his  eyes,  and  her  existence  seemed  to  come  into 
his  life  with  that  nearness  he  thought  an  own  sister's 
might  have. 

He  did  not  define  it  as  love,  he   had  no  wish  to  do 


202  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

that;  yet  on  this  occasion  it  was  a  privation  to  go 
away  from  her.  He  tried  to  shake  off  the  impression. 
He  called  himself  a  boy,  he  thought  he  must  be 
homesick. 

At  Bird's  Flat  he  pleaded  illness  and  received  a 
weed's  leave  of  absence.  The  next  day  he  went  to 
his  mountain  home  at  Rocky  Divide,  and  spent  a 
week  with  the  woman  he  called  his  mother  and  the 
children.  It  was  a  week  of  rest.  His  foster  brothers 
and  sisters,  who  were  uproarious  with  delight  to  see 
him  home,  would  allow  no  books,  and  Mrs.  La  Grange 
wanted  his  advice  about  many  things.  Then  it  was 
but  a  rest  to  him  to  help  the  boys  get  the  cattle  out 
of  the  forest,  and  start  them  off  to  market. 

But  the  young  Cherry  Valley  school-teacher  went 
from  the  orchard  gate  to  her  room,  and  sat  down  by 
her  window,  and  a  few  tears  fell  on  the  white-robed 
arm,  that  had  been  stretched  so  impulsively  to  the 
aid  of  the  overworked  young  amateur  surveyor. 

She  threw  the  blue  book  out  of  her  sight.  "I  am 
not  good  enough  to  read  it,"  she  said.  She  was  a 
criminal,  self  accused,  and  condemned,  and  why? 

Just  why,  she  did  not  know.  When  she  bent  over 
him  to  support  him  with  her  arm,  had  her  impulsive 
lips  touched  a  wave  of  dark  hair?  And  if  they  had, 
did  La  Grange  know  it  ?  She  felt  that  she  was  grow- 
ing to  be  more  of  a  child  and  less  of  a  woman  every 
day.  It  was  the  rush  of  tenderness  that  came  to  her, 
as  she  saw  him  faint  on  her  arm  that  accused  her. 
It  was  her  feelings  more  than  what  she  had  done. 
She  resolved  to  conquer  her  weakness,  and  to  punish 


SUMMER    DAYS  2O$ 

herself,  should  he  respect  her  enough  to  come  again, 
by  a  stiffness  in  her  manners,  which  would  show  him, 
at  least,  that  she  had  repented,  of  whatever  impro- 
priety he  might  think  her  guilty. 

He  did  come  several  times  during  her  remaining 
two  months  at  Cherry  Creek,  but  he  had  his  habitual 
candor  of  speech  and  ease  of  manner.  He  had  noth- 
ing to  say  to  her  that  any  one  need  not  hear,  and 
she  was  glad.  She  grew  in  mental  strength,  personal 
presence  and  self-control,  so  that  when  Mr.  Woods, 
at  the  end  of  her  term,  took  her  in  the  spring  wagon 
back  to  Hardup,  she  felt  the  change  that  had  come 
over  her,  and  appreciated  all  the  practical  benefits 
she  had  received  from  the  tuition  of  the  Bird's  Flat 
teacher. 

No  one  appreciated  Hulda's  new  mental  and  per- 
sonal graces  more  than  Joseph  Cornman.  He  noticed 
at  once  an  added  spirit  and  beauty  in  her  eyes,  a 
varied  expression  in  her  face,  and  a  new  sweetness 
in  her  smile. 

She  was  more  slender  also,  and  seemed  taller,  and 
her  manners  were  more  studied  and  graceful. 

Hulda,  however,  gave  but  little  attention  to  the 
observing  Hardup  teacher.  She  relieved  her  mother 
of  the  household  cares,  and  gave  all  her  spare  time 
to  her  reading.  She  added  Chaucer,  Spencer  and 
Milton  to  her  poets,  Bacon,  Aristotle  and  Marcus 
Aurelius  to  her  philosophers. 

Happily  David  was  away  and  there  was  nothing  to 
prevent  the  best  use  of  her  time.  Mr.  Cornman  ex- 
amined her  books  quizzically,  and  then  added  a  Roman 
History  and  Guizot's  France  from  his  trunk. 


204  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

La  Grange  had  gone  to  Rocky  Divide.  He  had 
said  nothing  about  his  future.  She  looked  forward 
to  no  immediate  prospect  of  seeing  him.  Anyway 
she  wanted  to  complete  a  certain  amount  of  reading 
for  his  approval,  when  they  should  chance  to  meet 
again. 

Cis  Beverly  came  often  to  the  cottage.  There  was 
a  new  seriousness  in  her  manner.  She  had  grown 
older  in  looks,  and  had  lost  a  manner  of  forced 
gayety  that  she  brought  with  her  from  the  city.  She 
was  cheerful,  too,  in  a  quiet  way.  She  was  accus- 
tomed to  slip  in  at  the  back  door  and  spend  the  after- 
noon with  Mrs.  Hardy,  Hulda,  in  her  room  with  her 
books,  not  knowing  of  her  presence.  She  sometimes 
brought  little  articles  of  clothing  she  had  made  for 
Nonie,  and  Mrs.  Hardy  would  accept  them,  sighing 
over  them  when  she  had  gone.  Cis  became  very 
handy  with  the  child.  She  would  rock  her  to  sleep 
whenever  she  came,  and  often  took  her  out  in  the 
orchard  for  hours.  She  taught  the  little  one  her  first 
words,  and  her  first  steps,  and  was  so  gentle  and  re- 
servedly motherly  with  her  always,  that  Mrs.  Hardy 
opened  her  heart  to  the  girl,  grew  newly  attached  to 
her,  and  learned  to  long  for  the  sound  of  her  steps 
in  the  quiet  house. 

Cis,  thoroughly  reliant  on  the  line  of  conduct  she 
had  adopted,  loved  her  friends  and  was  grateful  to 
them,  as  if  she  herself  had  not  forced  them  to  this 
position. 

As  she  looked  back  upon  her  fall,  she  abhorred  it 
the  more,  and  feared  a  revelation  with  greater  in- 


SUMMER    DAYS  205 

tensity.  But  the  more  settled  she  became  in  the 
silence  of  Mrs.  Hardy  and  Hulda,  the  less  she  closed 
her  natural  heart  against  the  -child,  and  the  stifled 
feelings  of  mother  love  returned. 

One  day  the  child  was  feverish,  and  Cis  insisted 
on  holding  it  all  the  afternoon,  and  lulled  it  to  sleep 
at  last  at  sundown  in  her  gentle  arms.  Hulda  had 
come  down,  prepared  the  evening  meal,  and  rang 
the  bell  for  the  teacher,  not  knowing  that  Cis  was 
in  the  south  bedroom  with  her  mother.  When  Cis 
came  out  softly  with  flushed  cheeks  and  shining 
eyes,  Hulda  felt  a  sudden  new  tenderness  for  her. 
She  had  really  avoided  her  since  her  return. 

When  tea  was  over  she  snatched  a  light  wrap  and 
followed  Cis,  who  was  hurrying  to  get  on  her  way 
home  before  dark. 

"Let  me  go  a  ways  with  you,"  she  called,  and  the 
two  girls  walked  down  the  lane  together,  as  they  had 
done  as  school-children  so, many  times. 

The  hot  summer  had  given  away  to  the  smoky 
cooler  autumn,  and  the  small  inclosed  fields  and  bare 
hills  were  dun  and  dry.  The  high  forest  covered 
mountains  were  wrapped  in  dark  blue  behind  their 
thin,  pale  haze,  and  nearej1  the  groves  of  young  pines 
were  bright  with  their  evergreen  freshness. 

The  moon  rose  dimly  over  the  mountain  line. 
Hulda  looked  from  the  tender  beauty  of  the  autumn 
scene  she  loved  so  well,  to  the  pretty  downcast  face 
of  her  quiet  companion.  Her  gray  dress  was  so  plain, 
yet  so  exact  and  dainty  in  fit* 

She  felt  a  strange  pity  for  the  girl   surge    into    her 


206  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

heart,  but  she  was  still  unreconciled  to  her  bold  de- 
fiance of  those  who  were  helping  her.  It  was  still 
an  estrangement  between  them.  It  was  hard  to  talk 
to  Cis.  She  could  think  of  nothing  to  say.  She 
finally,  as  a  last  resort,  spoke  of  David. 

"Now,  if  David  had  been  here,"  she  said,  "I  sup- 
pose we  might  have  gone  to  the  church  social  to- 
night." 

"He  would  have  taken  you,"  answered  Cis  gently, 
"but  me,  he  never  thinks  of  any  more." 

"But  he  brought  you  to  the  picnic." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Cis  decidedly,  "but  that  doesn't 
count." 

"I  wish  he  would  come  home  anyway,"  answered 
Hulda.  Not  that  she  did,  exactly,  but  the  expres- 
sion answered  in  place  of  expressing  an  opinion. 

"Isn't  one  lover  enough?"  cried   Cis,  sarcastically. 

Hulda  started,  and  her  sudden  color  was  not  vis- 
ible in  the  dusk. 

"Cis!  why  I  haven't  any  lover  at  all!" 

But  Cis  laughed.  "The  ever-devoted  Joseph  Corn- 
man,"  she  said  in  mock  earnestness.  "Why  do  you 
keep  him  in  suspense?  Dave  told  me  at  the  picnic 
you  were  going  to  marry  him  sure." 

"Dave  is  silly,"  said  Hulda. 

"I  think  he  is  kind  and  good,"  murmured  Cis,  re- 
flectively. She  understood  her  serious  and  honest- 
hearted  friend  well  enough  to  know  that  her  sudden 
pang  of  jealousy  had  been  unwarranted. 

Presently  the  girls  parted  with  quiet  good-nights, 
the  one  with  a  pale  saddened  face,  just  coming  out  of 


SUMMER    DAYS  2OJ 

the  vortex  of  trouble;  and  the  dark-eyed  girl  with  the 
proud  bearing,  and  the  elastic  step  of  health  and 
hope,  just  entering  into  the  shadow  of  bereavement 
and  sorrow. 

Hulda  walked  home  slowly.  The  thought  of  her 
day's  studies  passed  out  of  her  mind.  The  fresh  night 
air  and  the  moonlight  brought  memories  of  Lila  and 
the  mountain  roads.  She  laid  her  hand  on  the  gate 
with  a  smile  on  her  lips.  The  rose  bushes  had  grown 
up  tall  and  neglected  that  summer.  She  felt  the 
chill  of  a  presence  before  she  saw  the  tall  form  in  the 
path  before  her,  but  it  was  not  the  form  that  was  in 
her  mental  vision. 

She  wanted  to  push  by,  and  run  up  the  path,  but 
the  teacher  prevented  her. 

"Wait,"  he  said  solemnly,  stretching  his  long  arm 
before  her,  "I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  the  girl.  She  dared  not  be 
rude,  but  she  shrank  back  against  the  closed  gate. 

Mr.  Cornman  paused  to  give  greater  emphasis  to 
what  he  wished  to  say,  then  came  a  step  nearer. 

"Have  you  been  thinking  over  my  proposition, 
Miss  Hardy?" 

The  girl  was  confused  and  distressed. 

"Why,  no.  What  proposition?"  He  mistook  her 
agitation  for  emotion. 

"My  proposition  to  make  you  my  wife."  He 
loomed  up  with  horrible  nearness. 

"Oh,  don't,  please,"  cried  the  girl,  throwing  up 
her  hands  before  her.  "You  must  not  speak  of  it 
again.  You  know  I  can't."  She  still  wished  to  get 
away  from  him  without  offending  him. 


208  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

The  teacher's  voice  was  husky  when  he  spoke. 

"Why?  please  explain.  You  know  as  well  as  I, 
that  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do.  I  can  educate 
you  and  get  you  a  better  position,  and  make  some- 
thing of  you." 

The  girl  trembled  with  anger;  she  could  not  an- 
swer these  selfish  inducements.  "Oh,  I  cannot  marry 
you, "  she  said  helplessly. 

"Why?     Tell  me." 

His  manner  of  authority  frightened  her.  She  was 
losing  her  self-control.  She  thought  that  if  she  gave 
the  true  reason,  he  might  listen  to  her  and  respect 
her  for  it. 

"Oh,"  she  said  spasmodically,  "I — I — cannot.  I — 
I — I — love  another." 

Then  she  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands,  red  with 
shame,  that  she  had  made  such  an  avowal. 

It  was  a  good  and  sufficient  reason,  however,  to 
Joseph  Cornman.  His  local  and  temporal  ambition 
to  possess  the  bright  girl  for  his  wife,  ended  in  con- 
tempt for  her. 

She  had  refused  him,  and  for  whom?  An  unedu- 
cated and  common  man.  A  rude  miner,  a  man  who 
made  open  sport  of  him. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  full  of  bitterness  and 
satire.  "Ah,  and  so  Strong  is  a  better  man  than  I 
am.  Well,  I  wish  you  joy.  Good-night." 

He  went  into  the  house  and  left  her  standing  there, 
while  the  color  came  back  to  her  cheek  and  the  load 
lifted  from  her  heart. 

"What  luck!"  she  said  to  herself.   "He  thinks  it   is 


SUMMER    DAYS  2(X) 

Dave.  I  am  saved.  Poor  Dave  must  bear  all  the 
blame.  Oh,  dear,  it's  horrid,  but  I'm  glad  he  thinks 
it  is  Dave." 

Mr.  Cornman,  however,  took  bitterly  the  thought 
that  David  was  preferred  to  himself.  As  his  heart 
had  never  been  affected,  it  was  the  slight  to  his  per- 
sonality that  hurt  him,  and  he  was  not  a  man  to 
carry  offenses  lightly.  He  had  no  intention  of  leav- 
ing the  shelter  of  Mrs.  Hardy's  house,  but  he  was 
determined  that  the  girl  should  in  some  way  feel  his 
power. 

If  he  had  ever  been  disposed  to  be  a  friend  to  the 
widow's  daughter,  he  now  no  longer  possessed  that 
disposition  in  any  respect. 

And  the  impression  he  had  received  that  her  young 
affections  had  been  fixed  upon  David  Strong,  remained 
with  him  to  be  used  in  after  years,  as  an  evidence 
against  her  on  a  point  of  grave  moment  to  the  young 
woman. 


David  of  Juniper  Gulch    14 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  SNOWY  RIDE. 

Joseph  Cornman's  profundity  as  a  scholar,  and  his 
ability  as  a  teacher,  were  qualities  destined  to  meet 
with  a  sure  reward  in  that  part  of  the  state,  and  his 
first  step  in  the  chair  of  the  County  Superintendent 
of  schools  was  effected.  He  had  been  appointed  one 
of  the  members  of  the  County  Board  of  Examination, 
and,  when  his  official  notification  came,  the  first  week 
in  December,  he  carried  it  down  to  the  tea  table  and 
laid  it  before  Hulda,  with  his  usual  manner  of  repressed 
self-satisfaction.  The  girl  lifted  up  her  bright  eyes 
and  congratulated  him  with  a  few  well  chosen  words. 
She  knew  his  worth  and  abilities,  and  she  was  glad 
others  had  recognized  them. 

After  deliberately  folding  up  the  letter  and  putting 
it  away  in  his  inner  coat  pocket,  he  produced  another 
letter  and  handed  it  over  to  her. 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  a  correspondent  at  Forest 
Grove,"  he  said,  making  no  apology  for  the  fact  that 
he  had  scrutinized  her  letter. 

Hulda  knew  the  bold,  plain  writing  at  a  glance. 
La  Grange  had  written  to  her.  She  busied  herself 
over  the  serving  to  try  to  draw  attention  from  the 
rich,  warm  color  that  rose  to  her  temples,  but  she 
made  no  remark  to  satisfy  the  teacher's  curiosity,  and 
did  not  open  the  letter  until  he  had  gone  up-stairs. 

210 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  211 

The  communication  was  characteristic  of  La 
Grange,  his  practical  methods  and  his  warm-hearted 
friendship. 

"I  have  taken  the  place  of  the  Forest  Grove 
teacher,"  it  ran.  "Next  term  I  will  be  regularly 
elected  to  the  principalship.  The  second  position  will 
be  vacant  at  the  end  of  the  term,  and  if  you  will  for- 
ward your  application  now,  I  will  help  you  all  I  can. 
You  had  best  come  and  see  the  trustees  in  person  be- 
fore the  25th.  This  position  will  advance  you  in 
work  and  methods  much  better  than  any  country 
position.  Very  sincerely,  your  friend,  Edward  La 
Grange." 

The  girl  threw  aside  her  dignity  before  her  mother, 
and  gave  expression  to  her  delight,  but  she  decided 
to  conceal  her  new  plan  from  Mr.  Cornman. 

In  this  isolated  hill  village  the  matter  of  a  boarder 
was  of  considerable  importance  to  Mrs.  Hardy,  be- 
sides the  teacher  was  in  no  way  objectionable  to  her. 
For  this  reason  the  daughter  had  withheld  from  her 
a  knowledge  of  his  fruitless  wooing,  and  with  the 
same  instinct,  she  did  not  wish  to  excite  his  jealousy 
or  animosity. 

Mrs.  Hardy  was  quite  happy  and  contented  with 
the  circumstances  and  surroundings  of  her  quiet  life. 
She  had  a  good  and  promptly  paying  boarder  to 
occupy  the  house  with  her  when  Hulda  was  away. 
Cis  was  even  growing  to  be  a  companion  to  her. 
Hulda  had  brightened  the  house  with  new  carpets  and 
furniture,  and  stored  the  closets  with  new  dresses 
and  wraps. 


212  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

During  this  lowering  and  rainy  month  of  Decem- 
ber, the  widow  and  her  daughter  had  the  house  mostly 
to  themselves,  for  the  teacher  was  absent  at  Forest 
Grove  much  of  the  time,  looking  into  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  his  new  office. 

David  was  around,  however,  making  himself  at 
home  before  the  cosy  sitting-room  fire,  and  it  was  he 
who  engaged  a  horse  and  saddle  for  Hulda  on  the 
2ist,  assisted  her  to  mount,  and  stood  with  Mrs. 
Hardy  watching  her  as  she  rode  away,  happy  and 
smiling. 

A  neat,  black  habit  set  off  her  now  graceful  figure, 
and  her  long  skirt  swept  the  side  of  the  glossy,  black 
horse.  A  jaunty  boy's  cap  set  closely  to  her  dark 
head,  and  her  sparkling  eyes  and  red  cheeks  were 
brought  out  in  new  brilliancy  by  her  black  habit. 

Several  window  sashes  were  thrown  up  as  she 
clattered  through  the  main  street;  an  unnecessary 
detour,  but  the  girl  was  happy  and  light  hearted,  and 
she  had  no  aversion  to  showing  herself  to  the  town's 
people. 

"Ain't  that  Hardy  girl  getting  handsome,"  called 
one  woman,  over  the  fence  to  her  neighbor,  as  she 
passed,  and  this  was  also  the  first  thought  that  came 
to  the  mind  of  young  La  Grange,  when  he  met  her 
at  the  mounting  block  of  the  White  Pine  Hotel. 

And  Hulda,  for  a  moment,  did  not  know  the  young 
man  who  came  and  held  out  his  hand  as  she  alighted 
unaided.  She  caught  her  breath  and  blushed  vividly. 
There  was  a  great  change  in  her  beardless  student 
friend  of  Cherry  Valley — he  had  grown  a  mustache. 


A    SNOWY    RIDE 

He  held  her  hand  a  moment  too  long,  had  there 
been  observers, and  looked  at  her  with  candid  admi- 
ration. 

"How  you  have  changed!"  he  exclaimed. 

"But  you  haven't,  Mr.  La  Grange,"she  said  laugh- 
ing, with  a  mischievous  glance  of  meaning. 

She  followed  him  into  the  large,  square  parlor  of 
the  rambling  old  house,  and  thought  of  the  pastoral 
drama  of  Buck  and  Millie,  as  she  saw  the  old  thread- 
bare lounge  and  other  familiar  objects.  She  threw 
her  riding-skirt  over  a  chair.  Her  long  black  dress- 
skirt  was  a  copy  of  her  riding-skirt  and  hung  in  folds 
to  her  feet.  She  sat  down  to  talk  to  La  Grange,  in 
jaunty  cap,gauntlet-gloves,and  her  riding- whip  across 
her  lap. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  after  they  had  laughed  over 
the  Cherry  Valley  people,  as  they  had  never  dared 
to  do  at  the  Woods'  farmhouse,  "if  you  don't  mind 
walking  about  town  with  me,  we  will  go  and  see  those 
trustees.  It  will  not  take  long,  for  we  are  not  ex- 
pected to  say  much." 

In  fact,  La  Grange  had  already  said  all  that  was 
necessary,  and  the  trustees  had  no  intention  of  reject- 
ing a  candidate  offered  by  so  popular  a  young  man  as 
the  new  principal.  In  less  than  a  hour,  she  had  been 
assured  by  the  three  trustees  that  her  application 
would  be  accepted,  and  they  walked  back  to  the  hotel, 
making  a  sensation  among  the  idlers  of  the  town. 
Standing  on  the  hotel  porch  she  thanked  him  for  his 
help;  he  lifted  his  hat  formally  and  went  away.  He 
had  previously  told  her,  however,  that  he  would  get  a 


214  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

horse  and  be  around  about  two  o'clock  to   ride    part 
way  home  with  her. 

Hulda  ate  her  dinner  in  the  low  dining-room,  a 
canary  singing  madly  in  a  corner  back  of  her,  and  in 
her  heart  echoed  all  the  glad  joy  of  the  song.  Her 
life  seemed  lifted  up  above  the  usual  plane,  and  every- 
thing before  her  seemed  just  as  she  would  have  it. 
She  felt  like  a  queen,  as  she  ate  the  under  done  roast 
and  dry  pie.  She  did  not  even  know  how  they  tasted. 
But  whether  her  idyllic,  mental  condition  came  from 
the  prospect  of  having  a  position  in  the  leading  social 
center  of  the  county,  or  the  prospect  of  being  near 
La  Grange,  she  did  not  know.  She  made  no  analysis 
of  her  thoughts;  any  way  she  was  happy. 

She  smoothed  her  hair  and  reset  her  cap  in  the 
solitary  parlor,  and  settled  down  in  a  rocker  by  the 
fire  with  a  well-thumbed  novel  she  had  found  on  the 
table. 

What  with  her  thoughts  and  her  book,  she  was  so 
absorbed  that  she  did  not  notice  that  a  tall  figure  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway,  closed  the  door,  and  came 
towards  her.  Then  she  heard  the  step  and  felt  the 
chilling  presence  of  the  Hardup  teacher,  and  she 
looked  up  to  see  him  standing  over  her,  with  an  un- 
usual look  of  almost  malicious  meaning  and  a  positive 
manner  of  authority. 

He  smiled  feebly  and  without  waiting  for  her  to 
speak,  drew  a  chair  close  to  her  and  untied  a  roll  of 
papers  he  had  brought. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  deliberately,  looking  down 
at  the  papers,  "but  I  understand  you  are  applying  for 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  215 

a  position  here,  and  I  came  to  call  your  attention  to 
a  matter  which  has  just  lately  come  to  my  knowledge, 
and  which  you  ought  to  take  into  consideration." 

Hulda's  book  dropped  to   the    floor,  and    she    sat 
erect,  waiting  breathlessly. 

"I  was  much  surprised  last  March,"  he  continued, 
cruelly,  with  a  sharp  glance,  when  you  took  a  First 
Grade  Certificate,  for  I  knew  that  your  scholarship 
was  not  up  to  the  standard  in  certain  things.  In 
helping  to  arrange  and  pack  away,  recently,  the  papers 
of  the  Board  of  Examination,  I  took  the  trouble  to 
look  over  your  old  papers,  and  I  find  that,"  here  he 
hesitated  and  looked  up  at  her,  but  she  sat  motion- 
less with  wide,  innocent  eyes,  "  I  find,"  he  went  on, 
"that  some  one  at  that  time  had  the  fraudulent  kind- 
ness to  mark  your  papers  higher  than  they  deserved." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  the  girl's  voice  was  full  of  surprise. 

He  went  on  slowly,  weighing  his  words  to  give 
pain,  paying  no  attention  to  her  bewilderment. 

"I  also  find  that  your  officious  friend,  Mr.  La 
Grange,  was  assisting  the  Board,  and  I  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  tracing  the  marking  to  his  pencil.  The  con- 
clusion is  forced  to  my  mind  that  you  must  have  em- 
ployed this  young  man  to  do  this  for  you — " 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  with  flashing  eyes,  and 
cried  with  trembling  voice: 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  kind  and  you  know  it,  Mr. 
Cornman." 

Her  accuser  quailed  a  little  before  her  anger  and 
defiance. 

"Don't  get   excited.      Sit  down,"  he    said.     ''We 


2l6  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCK 

will  grant  that  you  did  not,  but  why  did  he  do  it  ? 
What  object  could  he  have  had?  If  it  were  for 
friendship,  it  seems  to  me  it  was  rather  impromptu 
friendship."  The  tone  was  more  insinuating  and 
cruel  than  the  words.  It  roused  the  girl  to  her  own 
defense. 

"It  was  nothing  of  the  kind,"  she  cried.  "There 
is  some  mistake.  Let  me  see  the  papers." 

She  sat  down  and  examined  the  papers,  one  at  a 
time,  as  he  laid  them  before  her.  Her  eyes,  better 
trained  than  formerly,  ran  through  them  quickly,  and 
the  forgery  became  apparent.  She  saw  that  several 
imperfectly  solved  problems  in  arithmetic  had  been 
marked  as  perfect.  She  folded  the  paper  with  a 
trembling  hand  and  a  white  face.  She  was  sick  at 
heart.  She  handed  them  all  back  without  looking 
further.  The  facts  were  against  La  Grange,  what- 
ever his  motive  may  have  been,  and  the  evidence 
was  that  her  certificate  had  been  fraudulently  ob- 
tained. She  was  thoroughly  humbled. 

"Are  you  going  to  revoke  my  certificate?''  she  asked 
in  a  low  broken  voice.  She  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  bowed  her  head  on  the  table.  Joseph 
Cornman  was  enjoying  her  misery  and  his  own 
triumph,  and  he  took  his  time  to  think  over  his  an- 
swer, while  he  tied  up  the  papers.  He  really  had  no 
intention  of  making  the  matter  public.  His  political 
instincts  told  him  that  he  would  gain  nothing  by  mak- 
ing a  public  enemy  of  La  Grange.  For  his  own  ad- 
vancements he  needed  him  as  a  friend.  His  main 
object  had  been  the  humiliation  of  the  girl  who  had 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  217 

refused  him.  His  secondary  object  was  to  keep  her 
from  taking  a  position  in  Forest  Grove  or  Hardup, 
or  any  other  place  where  he  wished  to  push  his  own 
influence.  He  could  not  make  use  of  her.  She 
would  only  be  in  the  way. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  looking  over  her  bowed 
head,  "there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  proceed 
against  you  to  revoke  your  certificate.  I  would  ad- 
vise you  not  to  teach  this  winter.  You  can  come 
back  in  March  and  pass  again,  and  then  burn  your 
illegal  certificate." 

"My  illegal  certificate?"  cried  the  girl,  starting  to 
her  feet.  "My  illegal  certificate  shall  be  burned 
now." 

Her  tormentor  rose  and  came  toward  her,  and  she 
shrank  back  to  escape  his  touch. 

"Don't  get  excited,"  he  said  firmly.  "I  am  your 
friend.  I  will  protect  you.  Don't  do  any  thing  rash. 
You  can  trust  me." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  protected,"  said  Hulda. 
"It  was  done  without  my  knowledge  and  I  shall  give 
up  my  certificate." 

"And  ruin   your  friend?"    coldly    and    sneeringly, 
asked  her  antagonist,  who  had  gone  too  far  and  now 
saw  possible  damages  to  himself 

"He  deserves  to  be  ruined,"  she  cried  indignantly. 
"I  don't  see  why  he  did  it." 

She  walked  away  to  comp9se  herself.  Presently 
she  came  back  calm  and  reasonable. 

"You  are  right,"  she  said  humbly.  'I  shall  stop 
teaching  and  try  for  a  certificate  in  the  spring.  But 


2l8  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Mr.  La  Grange  had  no  right  to  do  as  he  did.  He 
shall  apologize  to  the  Board  of  Examiantion.  He 
must  make  it  right." 

She  walked  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  her  head 
bowed  over  her  clasped  hands.  The  Hardup  teacher 
cleared  his  throat,  looked  at  his  watch  and  hesitat- 
ingly approached  her. 

"But  it  was  my  duty  to  tell  you,  Miss  Hardy.  I 
did  not  intend  that  it  should  go  any  further." 

"Oh,  certainly." 

She  did  not  turn  or  move.  He  quietly  took  his  hat 
and  went  out  of  the  room.  His  object  had  been  ob- 
tained, as  far  as  he  had  an  object.  He  wished  the 
girl  to  feel  that  in  losing  him,  she  had  lost  her  most 
useful  friend,  and  his  conviction  was  that  she  was 
now  overwhelmed  with  that  loss. 

But  it  was  not  that  loss,  or  any  material  loss  of 
her  own  that  the  girl  felt  so  deeply.  An  idol  lay  at 
her  feet.  She  had  been  worshiping  a  false  god. 
La  Grange  had  plainly  committed  a  petty  deception 
to  help  a  young  woman  he  had  suddenly  become  in- 
terested in,  that  woman  herself. 

She  had  held  her  head  high,  and  her  heart  was 
pure  and  noble,  but  everywhere  her  feet  seemed  to 
be  led  into  the  mire.  Appearances  were  somehow 
always  against  her  to  show  that  she  was  conniving 
with  deception.  She  thought  bitterly  of  Cis  and  her 
blind  sacrifice  for  her.  But  this  was  not  like  that.  It 
seemed  to  take  a  support  from  her  young  life.  Were 
none  good,  and  honest, and  noble?  None  at  all?  But 
him.  She  could  not  bear  to  think  that  he  possessed 
the  slightest  fault. 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  21Q 

La  Grange  came,  and  found  her  standing  silent 
and  motionless,  her  two  hands  behind  her  firmly  hold- 
ing each  end  of  her  riding-whip.  She  did  not  hear 
him  till  he  spoke,  then  she  lifted  a  white  face  that 
had  grown  strangely  old  and  sad  since  he  last  saw  it. 

"What  is  it?     Are  you  ill?" 

He  took  hold  of  her  arm  with  gentle  solicitude. 
Then  she  lifted  her  head  proudly. 

"No,  but  I  am  ready  to  go  home.  Come,  Mr.  La 
Grange,  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

He  followed  her  silently,  wondering.  He  had 
never  seen  this  gentle  girl  like  this.  He  put  her  on 
her  horse,  and  then,  together,  both  handsome,  erect, 
well-mounted,  they  galloped  down  the  main  street, 
La  Grange  touching  his  hat  right  and  left  to  ac- 
quaintances. 

La  Grange  knew  what  she  had  not  perceived;  that 
it  was  very  cold.  The  light,  fleecy  clouds  gathering 
all  the  morning,  had  settled  together  into  strange 
looking  low  clouds  drawing  from  the  east. 

But  the  change  in  the  atmosphere  had  not  chilled 
him  as  did  the  sudden  change  in  the  manner  of  his 
companion.  He  let  her  have  her  own  way  of  con- 
duct, however,  watching  her  wonderingly  as  he  kept 
up  with  her  flying  gallop,  till  they  reached  a  narrow 
road  through  a  grove  of  young  pines.  Then  he 
reached  out  with  a  strong,  quick  movement,  grasped 
her  bridle  reins,  and  drew  both  horses  to  a  stop. 

"We  have  had  quite  enough  of  this,"  he  said  firmly. 
"Why  are  you  treating  me  this  way,  after  I  have  been 
engaged  in  doing  you  a  service.  What  is  it,  please. 
Miss  Hardy?" 


220  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

She  turned  a  white  face  frankly  towards  him. 

"You  have  done  me  a  strange  service.  You  have 
nearly  ruined  me,"  she  said  sadly.  "Oh,  what  were 
you  thinking  of,  to  do  such  a  thing?" 

La  Grange  dropped  her  horse's  rein  and  regarded 
her  with  open  amazement. 

"Do?  The  deuce!  What  have  I  done  now? 
Danced  again?" 

"Well,  you  shall  know,"  she  said.  "You  marked 
up  my  papers  last  spring,  and  got  me  a  fraudulent 
certificate." 

He  gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"And  that  Cornman  has  hunted  them  up  and  been 
looking  them  all  over.  Oh,  the  dickens  he  has.! 
Well,  the  low,  sneaking  dog!  What  do  you  think 
of  such  a  low-lived  action  as  that?" 

The  horses  were  moving  on  slowly,  and  she  timidly 
looked  up  at  his  flushed  face.  In  his  indignation  he 
was  not  carefully  choosing  his  words. 

"It  is  your  action  I  am  speaking  of,"  she  said,  with 
forced  firmness  and  composure. 

He  laughed  then. 

"Only  this,  Miss  Hardy.  I  tried  to  please  you, 
and  have  offended  you,  and  he  tried  to  offend  you, 
and  has  pleased  you." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  don't  say  that."  She  turned  away 
her  head,  and  he  grew  serious,  as  he  noted  her 
trembling  voice. 

The  horses  with  loosened  reins  walked  slowly,  and 
when  he  spoke  again  his  voice  was  more  kind. 

"Well,  as  I  am  found    out,"    he    said,  "I    may    as 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  .  221 

well  confess.  I  did  mark  up  a  few  of  your  papers, 
but  I  did  it  with  the  kindest  of  motives.  I  knew  of 
you  before  I  saw  you  that  day.  My  foster  father 
knew  your  father  and  worked  under  him.  I  remem- 
ber very  well  the  time  your  father  was  killed.  My 
father  rode  horseback  thirty  miles  to  the  funeral. 
When  you  came  before  the  Board  I  didn't  want  you 
to  fail.  I  knew  it  would  hurt  your  future  chances. 
Now,  wasn't  that  kind?"  But  she  was  silent  with 
averted  face. 

"But  the  matter  is  not  what  you  think  it  is.  Your 
foxy  Mr.  Joseph  Cornman  is  too  fast.  He  is  caught 
in  his  own  trap.  Some  of  your  papers  were  very  fine, 
and  when  I  looked  them  all  over  later,  I  saw  that 
your  best  papers  would  have  made  up  the  required 
per  cent  any  way.  In  fact  the  Superintendent 
noticed  my  markings,  reproved  me  for  my  errors,  as 
he  supposed  them,  and  granted  you  the  certificate  on 
your  own  merits.  So  you  see  the  old  fox  has  put 
his  foot  in  it,  and  what  have  you  to  blame  me  for, 
Miss  Hardy?" 

Hulda  lifted  her  face,  and  she  smiled  faintly.  It 
was  some  relief  to  her  to  know  that  her  position  was 
clear  and  honest  but  her  eyes  were  on  the  rocky  bed 
of  the  graded  road  they  were  descending.  She  was 
silent. 

"Why  do  you  condemn  me?"  he  said.  "Have  you 
no  forgiveness  for  an  innocent  man?" 

A  warm  color  surged  to  her  cheeks.  They  rode 
under  the  tall  pines,  that  lifted  long,  ragged  arms 
over  the  roadway.  He  then  leaned  over,  seized  the 


222  .  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

bridle  rein  and  stopped  the  horses  close  together. 
He  leaned  forward  to  try  to  look  into  her  downcast 
eyes. 

"Come,  come,  Hulda,  child,  forgive  a  man  who 
pleads  for  forgiveness.  I  confess  it  was  cool  impu- 
dence. I  had  no  right  to  do  it." 

She  finally  looked  up,  her  eyes  brimming  with  tears. 

"Very  well.  Please  drop  the  rein,  Mr.  La  Grange." 
She  spoke  with  an  effort,  and  her  cheeks  were  scarlet. 

The  horses  moved  on  and  La  Grange  twirled  his 
whip,  with  a  perplexed  look.  She  glanced  at  him 
nervously  and  spoke  more  calmly. 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive.  I  wouldn't  care  for 
myself,  even  if  it  had  injured  me,  but  it  is  yourself; 
it  is  the  wrong  you  have  done  yourself." 

"How?"  He  stopped  his  own  horse  in  his  sudden 
surprise,  but  she  rode  on  and  he  followed.  "How- 
have  I  wronged  myself,  pray?  Cornman,  the  old 
fox,  will  never  say  a  word.  It  would  kill  him  in  this 
county,  and  he  knows  it.  Besides  he  knows  that  the 
County  Superintendent  would  kick  him  out  of  his 
place  if  he  finds  out  he  has  been  tampering  with  old 
records.  And  you,"  he  reached  and  took  her  glove 
hand  that  hung  by  her  side,  "you  will  forgive  me, 
won't  you?" 

But  she  drew  the  hand  away  and  looked  up  to  him 
with  scarlet  cheeks  and  pleading  eyes. 

"But  do  you  forgive  yourself  ?  I  think  it  was  a 
dishonest  act,  any  way,  Mr.  La  Grange.  It  was  not 
noble — it  was  deceit.  I  did  not  think  you  could  do 
anything  of  that  kind." 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  223 

He  did  not  share  in  her  misery,  and  laughed,  but 
with  an  uneasy  tone. 

"Well,  I  should  say!  That  is  a  fine  point  to  draw 
on  me.  You  call  a  well-meant  favor  an  ignoble 
deed.  You  are  complimentary.  How  would  I  ever 
succeed  in  this  world  if  I  drew  such  fine  points? 
How  am  I  to  educate  my  foster  brothers  and  spend 
•  my  time  splitting  hairs  like  that?  Well,  well.  What 
do  you  think  of  my  representing  myself  to  be  older 
than  I  am,  to  get  the  Forest  Grove  school.  I  had 
to  do  it.  Why,  I  am  going  to  have  pupils  older  than 
myself." 

The  girl's  bowed  face  was  turned  from  him,  and 
she  made  no  reply.  But  her  silence  troubled  him 
and  his  face  was  more  serious  than  his  words  were. 
She  rode  on,  the  tears  in  her  eyes  blinding  her.  She 
did  not  know  that  occasionally  a  white  flake  of  snow 
fell  on  her  cap.  The  annoyance  the  young  man  felt 
to  be  attacked  on  a  point  of  honor,  was  somewhat 
soothed  by  the  deep  and  sincere  interest  his  compan- 
ion evinced,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  accept  his  ex- 
planation. . 

They  came  to  a  little  flowing  spring  in  the  bank  of 
the  road,  and  both  horses  thrust  their  noses  into  it. 
La  Grange  slid  to  his  feet  to  tighten  his  saddle  girth, 
then  he  went  between  the  horses. 

"Well,  if  I  am  not  honest/'  he  said  sarcastically, 
"at  least  I  am  good  enough  to  be  allowed  to  tighten 
your  saddle  girth." 

He  looked  up  to  see  a  glistening  tear  drop  onto 
her  glove. 


224  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"Now,  this  is  too  much,"  he  said,  going  around  to 
her  side.  "I  can't  have  a  girl  crying  for  my  bad 
deeds.  Why  do  you  care,  Hulda?  What  differ- 
ence does  it  make?"  He  was  looking  up  into  her 
face,  that  she  had  lifted  proudly,  then  a  light  broke 
in  upon  him.  "Is  it  because,  because,"  he  reached 
and  imprisoned  both  her  hands;  "well,  say  because 
you  might  have  loved  me?" 

She  freed  one  hand  now  to  shield  her  face. 

"If  you  think  so  badly  about  it,  why  think  of  me! 
I  wanted  your  trust  and  faith.  It  was  everything 
to  me.  I  have  lived  upon  it;  but  I  wanted  you  to 
think  I  was  better  than  I  am.  I  lt>ved  you,  as  a 
man  loves  his  right  hand,  but  I  wouldn't  have  told 
you  so,  though,  now.  I  have  felt  that  you  were  the 
woman  God  made  for  me,  and  I  was  patient  to  wait. 
I  wish  I  were  good  enough  for  you.  I  would  like  to 
kiss  those  tears  away,  but  I  love  you  too  much,  to 
ask  you  to  forgive  a  man  you  despise." 

His  hat  in  his  hand,  he  dropped  his  dark  head  in 
her  lap.  A  flake  of  snow  fell  on  his  hair.  With  a 
swift  movement  she  brushed  it  away,  and  then  yield- 
ing to  her  impulse  she  let  her  hand  rest  on  his  head. 

"Edward,"  she  said  softly. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"I  don't  despise  you,  I  can't,  but  I  am  so  sorry 
about  these  little  things.  That  was  wrong.  I  wish 
you  would  change  your  principles— 

But  that  was  placing  it  upon  too  serious  ground. 
It  could  but  offend  him.  He  had  received  no  scru- 
pulous Methodistical  training.  H*  turned  away,  im- 
patiently. 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  225 

"Oh,  have  done  with  my  principles.  You  are 
Puritanical,  foolish,  wild.  If  this  silly  thing  can  part 
us,  we  had  better  part  now." 

This  was  a  boy's  cruelty.  The  girl's  physical 
strength  forsook  her.  She  had  been  under  long  ex- 
citement. She  slipped  from  her  saddle  and  leaned 
against  her  horse,  sobbing  and  trembling. 

Then  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  drew  her  face  to 
his  shoulder. 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear  girl.  I  half  ^believe  you 
do  love  me,  or  might  love  me,  or  ought  to  love  me, 
enough  to  forgive  me."  He  kissed  her  white  cheek. 
"My  darling  girl,  tell  me." 

But  she  freed  herself  and  caught  up  her  long  skirt. 

"Oh,  see  how  it  snows!  Mr.  La  Grange,  please 
put  me  on  my  horse." 

But  he  held  her  arm.  "A  moment  ago  you  called 
me  Edward." 

She  turned  away  her  face.  She  had  grown  rigid, 
and  her  face  was  as  white  as  the  flakes  of  snow  piling 
on  her  cap. 

"Oh,  please,"  she  murmured,  "I  must  go — see  the 
snow." 

He  put  his  two  hands  on  her  cheeks  and  turned 
her  face  to  his.  But  there  was  no  look  of  forgive- 
ness in  her  sad,  dark  eyes.  He  kissed  her  brow  rev- 
erently, took  her  bridle  reins  and  held  his  hand  for 
her  mounting.  She  placed  her  foot  in  his  palm  and 
sprang  into  the  saddle.  He  took  his  overcoat  from 
his  saddle  and  offered  it  to  her. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "I'll  not    take   it.     You    have 

David  of  jtmipev  Gulch    15 


226  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

four  miles  to  go  and  you  will  need  it.  I  am  near  the 
top  of  the  last  grade.  I  will  soon  be  home."  She 
held  out  her  hand.  "Thank  you,  and  good-by, 
Edward  La  Grange." 

He  took  her  hand.  "I  will  meet  you  when  school 
opens." 

"I  fear  not.  After  I  saw  Mr.  Cornman  I  wrote  a 
letter  and  withdrew  my  application."  Then  she  low- 
ered her  face,  for  the  crimson  tide  was  coming  back 
to  her  cheek.  "I  had  rather  go  back  to  Cherry 
Creek,  anyway." 

"I  presume  so,"  he  said,  "from  what  you  have  said 
to  me  to-day." 

She  snatched  her  hand  with  a  swift  glance.  She 
would  lose  her  self-control  again. 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  she  cried.  She  had 
loosened  her  rein,  and  the  impatient  horse  bounded 
away. 

She  told  her  mother  everything  necessary  to  ex- 
plain her  change  of  plan.  She  thought  of  her,  as  she 
dashed  home  through  the  falling  snow,  as  her  noblest 
companion,  her  best  and  dearest  friend.  She  knew 
that  her  mother  would  commend  her  course,  and 
just  now,  she  wanted  the  comfort  that  it  would  give 
her. 

And  her  mother  did  commend  her,  and  praise  her. 

"You're  just  like  your  father,"  she  said.  "He'd 
give  up  everything  for  a  point  of  principle.  Mr. 
Cornman  did  right;  we  can't  blame  him,  and  because 
he  was  really  mistaken  does  not  alter  the  right  of 
the  thing.  While  I  think  Mr.  La  Grange  really 


A  Subject  for  a  Painting. 


David  ol  Juniper  Gulch. 


A    SNOWY    RIDE  227 

meant  to  do  a  dishonest  thing  at  first.  Now,  do  go 
up-stairs,  Hulda,  and  change  your  damp  clothes." 

But  the  girl  in  her  own  room  kissed  her  cap  as  she 
took  it  off.  She  had  not  told  her  mother  all,  of  her 
struggle  with  love  and  the  pain  that  lay  on  her  heart 
with  the  image  of  her  fallen  idol.  And  she  was  glad 
afterward  and  forever  that  she  had  not  given  her 
good  mother  unnecessary  pain. 

But  she  went  that  night  alone  to  the  old  brown 
Methodist  Meeting  house,  and  she  was  kneeling  on 
the  cold,  bare  floor  as  the  gray  haired  minister  prayed. 

"Lord,"  he  said,  "lead  us  not  into  temptation. 
Spare  our  dear  young  people.  We  pray  that  they 
may  be  led  aright,  may  they  spurn  evil,  and  think 
of  that  which  is  good.  Lord  help  our  dear  young 
people." 

But  referring  it  to  the  Lord  was  about  all  the  good 
man  ever  did,  to  search  out  the  paths  by  which  his 
young  people  might  be  led  into  temptation.  Yet  the 
girl  was  comforted.  There  were  temptations;  the 
minister  evidently  knew  that. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MRS.   CORNMAN. 

New  Year's  day  was  a  day  of  unusual  excitement 
at  the  Hardy  cottage.  Cis  came  in  the  morning,  try- 
ing to  appear  as  gay  and  light-hearted  as  in  the  old 
days  before  she  went  away. 

Hulda,  in  her  oldest  dress,  had  swept,  and  gar- 
nished, and  baked,  till  she  was  tired  and  nervous. 
Mrs.  Hardy  busied  herself  giving  directions,  and  fin- 
ishing a  dress  for  her  daughter  to  wear  in  the  evening. 
David  made  his  usefulness  and  his  noise  predominant, 
and  Hulda  was  the  principal  sufferer  from  his  non- 
sense. 

"Cut  out,  skunked,  and  jilted  forever,"  he  cried, 
laughingly,  as  he  stood  upon  a  chair  to  hang  a  pict- 
ure Hulda  had  dusted.  "Who'd  a  thought  it,  Hulda, 
that  you'd  get  left  in  this  way.  Married!  This  beast 
a  hanging."  Then  he  sat  down  by  Cis,  who  was 
whipping  a  plate  of  eggs  to  a  froth,  and  drew  from 
his  pocket  the  Forest  Grove  Mountain  Messenger. 
He  read  aloud  for  the  tenth  time  that  day  the  item 
that  caused  him  so  much  merriment. 

"The  popular  and  efficient  teacher  from  Hardup, 
Mr.  Joseph  Cornman,  was  married  on  Christmas  day 
at  Sacramento  at  the  Imperial  Hotel.  The  lady,  who 
was  Miss  Aurelia  Hawthorne  Stalker,  had  just  arrived 

328 


MRS.     CORNMAN  22Q 

from  Branchtown,  Vermont,  and  is  somewhat  known 
in  that  state  as  a  writer  of  juvenile  stories.  It  is 
rumored  that  the  engagement  was  of  many  years 
standing.  Both  parties  receive  the  warm  congratu- 
lations of  Mr.  Cornman's  many  friends  ?n  this 
county." 

"Now,  Hulda,  isn't  this  awful?" 

But  Hulda  and  Cis  had  both  fled  from  the  room 
and  he  was  left  laughing  alone. 

Mrs.  Hardy  had  received  a  brief  message  from  the 
teacher  that  he  would  arrive  with  his  bride  on  New 
Year's  day,  and  David  had  constituted  himself  a  com- 
mittee to  arouse  the  entire  town  to  the  importance 
of  the  occasion. 

It  was  decided  to  give  him  a  reception,  and  that 
meant,  that  every  one  in  town  who  felt  an  interest, 
men,  women  and  children,  would  crowd  into  the  little 
home  that  evening  to  see  the  bride,  "have  refresh- 
ments," and  enjoy  themselves  in  a  social  way. 

The  "refreshments,"  as  a  supper  to  be  passed 
around  was  always  called,  sprang  up  like  manna  in 
the  wilderness,  and  David  was  sent  for  from  all  over 
the  town  to  carry  the  baskets  to  the  cottage.  It  was 
holiday  time  and  it  was  a  matter  of  gratification  to 
every  one,  that  something  had  happened  to  give  oc- 
casion for  more  local  excitement  and  amusement. 

But  doing  errands,  blacking  stoves,  hanging  pict- 
ures and  sweeping  garden  walks,  could  not  so  entirely 
utilize  David,  but  that  he  had  time  to  ma-ke  his  pres- 
ence felt. 

While  Hulda  was  rubbing  the  window-panes  in  the 


230  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

dining-room  till  they  shone  like  the  clear,  cold  air 
outside,  he  was  kneeling  close  by  rubbing  a  chair 
with  a  bit  of  oil  on  a  flannel. 

Cis  Beverly  was  by  the  little  stove  hushing  Nonie 
to  sleep.  David  thought  he  would  abandon  his  teasing 
of  Hulda  for  a  while,  and  begin  something  else. 

"Cis,"  he  said,  but  not  looking  at  her  at  all,  "you 
make  a  tiptop  nurse.  You  take  to  it  like  a  pan  to  a 
pick  and  shovel.  Now  if  that  city  fellow  of  yours 
could  see  you,  he'd  locate  some  rock  and  gravel  and 
stay  here." 

"Oh,  Dave,  you  are  dreadful."  Hulda  turned  upon 
him  angrily,  and  threw  her  damp  towel  over  his  head. 
Then  she  dragged  him  blindfolded  into  the  kitchen. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  you  rude  man? 
You  sha'n't  tease  that  poor  girl  so.  Say  what  you 
please  to  me,  but  let  that  poor  girl  alone." 

"Nonsense,  I  said  nothing  to  hurt  her  feelings," 
insisted  David.  "I  was  only  experimenting  a  little 
on  my  own  account." 

"Then  don't  say  such  rude  things,"  said  the  girl, 
soberly.  A  moment  later  Hulda  found  Cis  in  the  bed- 
room bending  a  white  face  over  the  crib. 

"Never  mind,  Cis,"  she  said,  "David  didn't  mean 
anything.  He  sha'n't  speak  so  rudely  to  you  again." 

Cis  did  not  look  up  or  reply.  Hulda  pressed  her 
hand  gently,  and  went  from  the  room. 

When  the  stage  drove  up  to  the  door  that  evening, 
the  little  house  was  full  to  overflowing.  As  David 
said,  the  parlor  was  full  of  "swells;"  one  or  two  mine 
owners,  a  store-keeper,  the  doctor,  and  the  minister, 


MRS.    CORNMAN  23! 

and  their  wives.  A  strong  representation  of  Method- 
ists filled  the  sitting-room ;  matrons  with  cakes  in 
their  hands  crowded  into  the  warm  little  kitchen,  and 
the  school-boys  and  girls  filled  the  hall. 

"I  appreciate  this  little  surprise.  It  is  a  most 
graceful  compliment,  I  assure  you,"  the  tall  teacher 
was  saying  to  Mrs.  Graceway  at  the  door,  while  the 
pastor  stood  shaking  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Cornman  once 
and  again.  The  first  words  she  had  spoken  won  the 
heart  of  the  gray  haired  minister. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  my  pastor  first,"  she  had  said. 
"I  am  a  life-long  Methodist." 

She  then  removed  her  wraps,  and  in  a  neat  bonnet 
and  traveling  dress,  was  introduced  through  the  rooms 
by  the  delighted  pastor. 

Whatever  Mrs.  Cornman,  who  had  come  out  to 
California  to  marry  her  old  lover,  now  thought  of 
him,  it  was  evident  that  her  old  lover  could  not  but 
be  more  than  pleased  with  his  bargain. 

Hardup  people  were  delighted.  She  was  a  valu- 
able addition,  and  they  all  said  so  to  each  other  as 
she  moved  out  of  hearing.  A  tall,  well  formed, 
healthy  looking  woman,  with  affable  manners,  and 
fine  gray  eyes.  Her  face  showed  culture,  intelligence 
and  strength  of  character. 

She  had  a  pleasant  greeting  for  all,  a  word  of  wit 
here  and  there  and  a  warm  and  patronizing  manner 
for  the  children. 

Exactly  her  equal  had  never  before  been  seen  in 
Hardup. 

"She's   all    Boston,"    said    a   grizzly    prospector, 


232  DAVID    OF    TUNIPER    GULCH 

proudly,  who  was  known  to  have    come    from    some 
where  "along  shore." 

She's  a  real,  genuine  New  Yorker,"  said  another, 
with  a  reflective  air  of  knowing. 

"She's  too  tony  for  these  parts,"  whispered  a  young 
native  son. 

"I  think  she  could  superintend  our  Sunday  School," 
said  Mrs.  Graceway  to  a  stolid  matron. 

David  pulled  Hulda's  sleeve  in  a  corner  of  the  hall. 

"Never  mind,  Hulda,"  he  whispered,  insinuatingly, 
''cheer  up!  It's  a  fair  beat.  She  takes  the  cake." 

"Indeed  she  does,"  answered  the  girl  warmly.  "I 
think  I  shall  like  her  ever  so  much.  I  am  glad  she 
has  come." 

Then  she  sighed  so  heavily,  as  she  stood  there, 
that  David's  attention  was  arrested,  and  he  turned 
and  scrutinized  her  face  for  a  moment  with  attentive 
seriousness. 

Had  she  really  learned  to  like  the  teachtr?  But 
Hulda  was  thinking  of  Mrs.  Cornman. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DARK  DAYS. 

Spring  came  to  the  Placer  regions  like  a  festival  of 
green  and  gold.  The  green  grass  spread  out  over 
the  openings,  and  began  to  wave  over  the  edges  of 
the  high  red  bluffs;  the  yellow  buttercups  appeared 
on  the  warm  hill  sides,  heralding  a  fairer  host,  and 
the  warm  poppies  trooped  out  aflame  in  the  rich 
meadows. 

The  days  were  clear  and  shining,  and  the  rocky 
slopes  sparkled  in  the  distance.  The  roads  were 
firm  and  hard,  the  forests  were  new  with  budding 
verdure,  the  creeks  and  gulches  ran  foaming  with 
spring  freshets,  and  the  canons  were  odorous  with 
blooming  shrubs. 

One  Saturday,  two  horsemen  were  riding  over  the 
country  between  Forest  Grove  and  Hardup.  Wher- 
ever a  tunnel,  a  line  of  sluice  boxes,  or  a  shaft  and 
windlass,  indicated  mining  operations,  they  left  the 
road  and  made  an  examination  of  the  property. 

The  elderly  man,  a  well  dressed  portly,  florid  gen- 
tleman, was  making  a  list  of  mining  property  for  sale, 
and  the  younger  man,  who  seemed  to  know  the 
country  and  the  people  thoroughly,  was  showing  him 
about  and  answering  his  questions. 

m 


234  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Giving  his  evenings  to  reading  law,  and  spending 
his  days  in  the  school-room,  La  Grange  had  found  it 
quite  advantageous  to  his  health  to  spend  his  Satur- 
days in  the  open  air.  A  real  estate  firm  of  Forest 
Grove  were  glad  to  employ  a  man  of  such  superior 
taleni  to  show  strangers  about  the  vicinity. 

"All  1  want  to  do,"  said  the  elder  man,  as  they 
rode  along,  "is  to  make  sales.  I've  been  doing  a  good 
business  up  around  Grass  Valley  lately.  You  see  I 
have  a  partner  there,  and  I  send  up  the  victims  from 
the  city,  mostly  Easterners — not  exactly  victims,  you 
know,  for  we  agree  to  sell  the  mine  for  a  man,  if  he 
don't  like  it.  Then  he's  so  anxious  to  get  his  money 
back  that  he  turns  in  and  helps  me  sell  it,  so  we  keep 
turning  the  same  mine  over  and  over.  Now  if  you 
want  to  go  in  with  me  here,  you  can  make  something 
out  of  this,  eh?  A  good  chance  for  a  young  man  like 
you.  And  if  you  know  how  to  carry  a  little  'salt' 
around  in  your  pocket,  you  can  keep  the  ball  rolling. " 

La  Grange  looked  at  the  stranger  furtively,  and  his 
lace  grew  a  shade  graver. 

"You  see  I  don't  want  a  Company.  All  I  want  is 
a  man  in  good  standing,  like  you,  to  do  a  little  salting 
and  talking,  and  keep  mum.  Too  many  spoils  the 
game.  I  mean  business  now.  What  do  you  think?" 

La  Grange  looked  as  if  he  were  thinking  a  good 
deal,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"You  see,"  continued  the  florid  gentleman,  "you 
won't  get  into  trouble,  for  all  the  kicking  is  done  to 
us  in  the  city,  and  if  a  man  threatens  to  make  trouble, 
I  buy  him  out  myself.  But  the  majority  of  men 


DARK    DAYS  235 

won't  fight,  you  know.  But  it  takes  a  woman  to 
kick  up  the  devil  of  a  row,  if  she  ain't  treated  just 
right.  I'm  a  woman  hater  myself." 

"Women  are  more  honest  than  men,"  said  La 
Grange. 

"Not  all  of  them.  My  partner  in  the  city  is  a 
woman.  She  keeps  a  high  class  lodging  house,  and  be- 
tween us  we  take  in  the  tenderfoots,  I  can  tell  you." 

"Then  you  admit  your  business  is  not  honest." 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,  I  don't.  We  handle  good 
property,  and  a  man  can  take  his  choice.  You  can't 
help  it,  if  people  are  fools.  For  instance,  you  tell 
me  certain  things  about  these  mines.  If  I  believe  it 
all,  are  you  to  blame?" 

La  Grange  turned  squarely  in  his  saddle. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  sir." 

The  stranger  threw  out  his  hand. 

"No  offense,  no  offense,  I  assure  you.  I  said,  for 
instance.  Oh,  you  can't  talk  to  me.  I  know  all 
about  mines." 

La  Grange  scowled  and  drew  his  hat  down  over  his 
eyes.  He  was  getting  an  excellent  antidote  for  his 
own  diseases,  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  the  strong  men- 
tal sickness  of  those  who  suddenly  see  their  own 
follies. 

The  two  men  came  into  Hardup  at  noon  and 
stopped  for  dinner  at  the  principal  hotel.  After  din- 
ner they  occupied  two  arm  chairs  on  the  shaded  porch 
in  front,  while  several  idlers  were  occupying  seats 
around  them,  smoking  and  chewing  with  apparent  in- 
difference, but  in  reality  eagerly  listening  for  every 


236  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

word  of  gossip  that  might  be  current  in  the  town  and 
country. 

"Well,  what's  the  news  down  here?"  said  La 
Grange,  patronizingly,  to  a  thin,  sallow  little  man 
on  his  right,  a  person  named  Bealy,  who  peddled 
apples  in  the  summer  season,  and  peddled  as  much 
gossip  as  he  dared  to,  all  the  time. 

Bealy  laid  down  the  county  paper  and  yawned 
lazily. 

"Oh,  not  much.  Nothin'  in  particular.  You 
heard  the  widow  Hardy  was  dead." 

"Why,  no!" 

"Died  yesterday.  Had  pneumonia  terrible!  Bur- 
ied Sunday,  at  one  o'clock.  Awful  sudden  death!" 

"Well,  well,  1  hadn't  heard  of  that!" 

"Yes,  and  I  guess  arter  the  funeral,  they'll  start  up 
that  old  talk  about  that  baby,  for  folks  are  bound  to 
know  the  truth,  you  know." 

La  Grange,  having  no  desire  to  encourage  gossip, 
pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and  was  silent. 

Another  gossip  spoke  up  behind  him. 

"Oh,  fiddle!  I  believe  it  was  just  as  they  said.  It 
is  some  cousin's  baby.  You'd  better  shut  your 
mouth.  David  Strong  was  blustering  around  here 
this  morning,  and  he  says  he'll  shoot  che  first  man 
that  says  a  word  about  the  widow's  daughter." 

"He'd  better  shoot  himself,"  said  the  first  gossip. 
"Folks  say  it's  his'n.  All  of  a  sudden  the  winter 
'fore  this,  they  had  a  baby  there.  The  girl  she  went 
to  the  city  and  brung  it  back,  said  it  was  a  cousin's^ 
you  know.  Looks  curious  but  of  course  I  don't 


BARK    DA_rS  237 

know  nothin'  about  it.  But  they  say  Hulda,  that's 
the  girl,  don't  care  nothin'  about  it.  Of  course  folks 
wouldn't  talk  if  either  of  the  women  would  tell  any- 
thing. There's  that  Beverly  girl — she  done  a  pretty 
thing  for  a  slip  of  a  girl  like  her.  When  the  widow 
died  she  bundled  up  the  baby  and  took  it  home.  She 
told  around  that  if  Hulda's  cousin  never  came  for  the 
young  one,  she'd  keep  it." 

La  Grange  rose  and  walked  away,  but  with  clenched 
hands  and  compressed  lips;  he  would  like  to  have 
knocked  the  apple  peddler  into  the  middle  of  the 
street.  But  it  was  clearly  not  his  place,  and  would 
have  occasioned  more  talk.  He  went  around  to  the 
hotel  stable  and  stood  in  the  door  with  a  very  sad 
and  grave  expression  on  his  face,  while  the  horses 
were  being  saddled.  The  nobest  and  best  woman  he 
ever  knew  was  in  serious  trouble,  and  he  could  do 
nothing  to  help  her.  Any  bungling  interference 
would  only  make  matters  worse.  "Any  way,"  he 
thought,  "I  can  come  to  the  funeral  to-morrow,  and 
show  respect  in  that  way." 

When  he  came  around  to  the  front  of  the  house 
the  florid  stranger  was  there  alone  conversing  with 
the  apple  peddler,  whose  tongue  was  running  freely; 
but  he  came  immediately,  and  they  mounted  and 
rode  out  of  town.  La  Grange  was  not  in  a  talkative 
mood,  and  the  stranger,  after  taking  a  cursory  glance 
at  the  little  Giant  Mine  near  Hardup,  said  he  would 
go  back  to  Forest  Grove. 

Max  Royse,  mining  sharp,  real  estate  agent  and  gen- 
eral speculator,  had  lost  his  interest  in  the  mines 


238  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

around  Hardup.  He  had  discovered  a  mine  that 
was  loaded,  and  liable  at  any  moment  to  explode 
about  his  feet.  The  evidence  was  all  circumstantial, 
but  if  the  girl,  Hulda  Hardy,  had  brought  home  an 
infant,  if  Cis  Beverly  was  home  and  strangely  inter- 
ested in  that  infant,  he  preferred  not  to  be  around  if 
any  investigations  were  in  progress.  Then  he  began 
to  suspect  that  there  had  been  some  flaw  in  the 
management  of  Mrs.  Minerva  Ellis. 

Meanwhile  all  was  dark  and  silent  in  the  rooms  of 
the  Hardy  cottage.  Hulda' s  gentle,  pure-minded, 
kind-hearted  mother,  her  only  one  to  love  in  the 
world,  had  passed  away.  David  had  come  for  her 
with  a  buggy  to  Cherry  Valley — she  had  arrived  just 
in  time  to  see  the  last  helpless,  labored  hours  of  her 
mother's  life. 

Mrs.  Cornman  was  everything,  and  did  everything. 
All  that  a  skillful  nurse  could  do  she  had  done,  and 
no  one  could  be  more  wise,  kind  and  helpful.  She 
gave  the  stricken  girl  her  seat  by  the  bedside,  and 
waited  upon  her  with  the  most  tender  and  watchful 
solicitation.  But  Hulda  was  slow  to  see  the  signs 
of  death,  and  only  near  the  last  did  she  whisper  anx- 
iously when  no  one  was  near. 

"Mother,  mother,  what  shall  I  do  about  Nonie? 
Shall  I  tell?" 

"Hulda,  be  kind — protect — be  true  b— e  good,—" 
came  the  labored  answer  with  a  pressure  ot  the  hand. 

When  it  was  all  over  Mrs,  Cornman  had  led  the 
girl  to  her  own  room,  while  she  established  the  order 
of  sorrow  in  the  little  room. 


DARK    DAYS  239 

At  midnight  Cis,  who  had  been  rocking  Nonie  in 
a  corner  of  the  kitchen,  because  there  was  no  place 
to  go  with  her,  crept  up  the  stairs,  knocked  at 
Hulda's  door  and  went  in  with  the  child. 

She  locked  the  door,  laid  the  sleeping  babe  on  the 
bed,  and  turned  to  Hulda,  sitting  by  the  window. 

Cis  had  been  weeping  all  night ;  her  old  strength 
and  courage  were  gone.  She  knew  what  she  had 
lost.  She  knew  that  Hulda  could  not  do  as  her 
mother  had  done.  But  Cis  had  resolved  to  throw 
herself  on  the  large  mercy  of  her  young  friend.  She 
fell  at  her  feet,  clasped  her  waist,  and  with  tears  and 
sobs,  told  her  the  sad  story  of  innocence,  deceit, 
wrong  and  misery.  She  thought  the  affair  of  the  bas- 
ket, and  how  it  had  come  to  be  in  Hulda's  room, 
had  been  some  blunder  of  the  Chinese  servants;  but 
the  rest  she  told,  just  as  it  had  happened,  the  true 
name  of  her  betrayer  and  all.  Hulda  shuddered. 
"And  oh,  Hulda,"  she  sobbed,  "you  and  your  mother 
have  saved  me.  You  kept  my  secret  till  I  learned 
to  live  it  down,  and  now  it  will  ruin  me  to  have  it  all 
come  out.  I  want  to  live  a  good  life.  I  want  grand- 
ma to  die  happy,  and  oh,  Hulda,  you  will  save  me, 
won't  you?  People  think  it  is  your  cousin's  baby. 
Let  them  think  so  always,  and  I  will  take  Nonie  home 
to  take  care  of  her,  and  you  can  come  and  live  with 
us  too,  some,  won't  you?  I  was  bad  in  my  heart 
when  I  came  home,  Hulda,  I  was  wicked;  but  you 
have  been  so  noble  and  good,  I  want  to  be  like  you." 
Hulda  laid  her  own  trembling  arm  around  the  girl. 

"Cis,  dear,  why  should   I    harm    you?     Take    the 


240  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

child;  I  never  could  love  it,  you  know  that,  but  I 
will  protect  you  and  save  you.  I  promised  my 
mother  I  would,  and  I  will." 

Then  the  fountains  of  her  own  grief  were  unsealed, 
and  she  broke  down  in  tears  and  cries. 

Later  Mrs.  Cornman,  coming  in  to  see  what  could 
be  done  for  Hulda,  found  the  girls  weeping  quietly, 
locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  she  was  glad. 

"Hulda  is  crying,"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "I 
think  she  will  be  all  right,  now." 

The  funeral  conducted  by  the  Rev.  Graceway  was 
the  most  properly  conducted  funeral  that  had  ever 
taken  place  in  Hardup.  Mrs.  Cornman,  whom  every 
one  loved  and  admired,  gave  all  the  directions,  and 
in  everything  she  was  implicitly  obeyed.  She  kept 
Hulda  in  strict  retirement,  as  it  seemed  most  proper 
in  the  case  of  an  orphan  girl.  She  saw  no  one  but 
Cis,  not  even  David,  and  she  asked  for  no  one.  She 
entered  the  church  dressed  in  deep  black  and  heavily 
veiled,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Mrs.  Cornman;  grand- 
pa and  grandma  Beverly  came  next,  and  Mr.  Corn- 
man followed  with  Cis,  also  in  black,  but  not  veiled. 
David  was  one  of  the  pall-bearers. 

After  the  remains  had  been  borne  out  of  the  church, 
Mrs.  Cornman  tarried  a  moment  in  the  vestibule  and 
allowed  the  friends  to  speak  to  Hulda  as  they  passed 
out.  A  great  many  took  her  hand  and  tried  to  say  a 
comforting  word,  but  every  word  spoken  swelled  the 
burden  on  her  heart,  till  she  leaned  on  Mrs.  Cornman 
and  saw  and  heard  nothing. 

A  young  man,  lingering   behind    the    women    and 


DARK    DAYS  24! 

girls  came  forward  timidly  and  tried  several  times  to 
speak  to  her.  He  offered  his  hand,  but  she  made  no 
sign  of  recognition,  and  looked  straight  before  her. 
He  would  have  assisted  Mrs.  Cornman  to  put  her  in 
the  buggy,  but  she  turned  away.  He  stood  and 
watched  the  procession  move  away,  then  sat  on  the 
church  steps  a  while,  very  sad  and  evidently  troubled ; 
he  afterward  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  towards 
Forest  Grove. 

The  next  day  Hulda  was  Mrs.  Cornman' s  only 
care.  She  was  alone  in  the  house  with  her,  and 
gave  her  undivided  attention  to  the  stricken  girl.  She 
did  riot  try  to  bring  her  out  of  her  room,  for  the 
sight  of  the  lonely  rooms  would  be  a  new  grief.  She 
brought  some  tea  and  toast  to  her,  gathered  her  a 
bunch  of  poppies  in  the  orchard,  then  after  she  had 
read  to  her  from  her  own  well  marked  Bible,  Hulda 
seemed  comforted  and  held  the  hand  of  her  new 
friend,  and  thanked  her  over  and  over  for  everything 
she  had  done. 

"It  was  a  pleasure  to  do  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Corn- 
man, "You  have  borne  it  beautifully,  but  there  is  one 
thing,  you  should  have  noticed  the  attentions  of  all 
the  kind  friends  whether  you  liked  them  or  not." 

"Oh,  I  did,"  said  Hulda. 

"No,  you  was  quite  rude  to  one  man.  He  was 
one  of  the  last  to  speak  to  you  at  the  church.  You 
refused  to  speak  to  him  or  give  him  your  hand." 

"Who  was  he?  I  don't  remember  any  man  at  the 
last." 

"Didn't  you  see  a  nice  looking  young    man,  quite 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    16 


242  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

handsome,  offer  you  his  hand  several  times  just  as  we 
came  out?" 

"I  didn't  see  any  young  man,  Mrs.  Cornman,  what 
did  he  look  like?" 

"He  was  rather  tall,  with  dark  hair,  and  a  strong, 
blue  gray  eye,  and  a  dark  mustache.  He  was  well 
dressed,  and  did  not  look  like  a  working  man.  He 
seemed  hurt  that  you  would  not  see  him,  and  looked 
very  sad.  You  shouldn't  have  treated  any  one  so." 

"Mrs.  Cornman,  I  didn't  see  him,  I  know  I  didn't. 
It  was  very  kind  of  him  to  come.  Oh,  Mrs.  Corn- 
man!" 

She  broke  down  and  cried  bitterly.  Nothing  could 
comfort  her.  In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Cornman  came  up. 

"There  is  a  young  woman  here,"  she  said,  "and 
insists  on  seeing  you.  She  doesn't  give  her  name. 
See  what  she  has  brought." 

She  showed  her  a  basket  of  the  first  strawberries 
of  the  year,  packed  in  green  leaves. 

"I'm  coming  anyway,"  said  a  sweet  voice  on  the 
stairs.  "My  dear,  dear  teacher,  I  had  to  come. 
You  came  to  me  once  when  I  was  in  trouble."  And 
Millie,  fresh,  sweet  and  loving,  rushed  into  her  arms 
and  kissed  her  over  and  over  again. 

Simple,  guileless,  innocent  and  loving,  Millie 
brought  comfort  to  her  teacher's  heart.  Hulda  looked 
back  through  Millie's  liquid  blue  eyes  to  the  sweet 
days  when  Cherry  Valley  was  her  paradise,  her  hero 
walked  before  her  sight  unblemished  as  a  god,  and 
all  was  well  with  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  INQUISITION. 

After  the  first  burst  of  anger  had  exhausted  itself, 
David  took  refuge  in  silence.  Indeed  he  had  been 
rather  roughly  reminded  by  a  few  that  "the  less  said 
the  better."  Though  resenting  the  implication  of 
such  remarks  he  recognized  the  wisdom  and  con- 
tained himself  accordingly.  But  his  kind  heart  was 
too  deeply  troubled  to  let  the  days  pass  away  with- 
out doing  something  towards  dispelling  the  ugly 
rumors  that  floated  on  the  street. 

He  had  no  intention  of  having  anything  to  say  to 
Mrs.  Cornman.  Her  general  efficiency,  precision  and 
correct  grammar  subdued  him  thoroughly  in  her  pres- 
ence. He  could  think  of  only  one  person,  to  whom 
he  was  willing  to  speak  on  the  subject.  The  Rev. 
Graceway  would  be  a  true  friend  to  the  bereaved  girl, 
and  would  no  doubt  find  a  way  to  put  an  end  to 
these  rumors. 

He  knocked  one  evening  at  the  outside  door  of  the 
pastor's  study,  in  the  parsonage  among  the  pines  back 
of  the  church.  The  good  pastor  was  surprised  to  see 
David  standing  in  the  full  glow  of  his  lamp,  and  he 
wondered  if  at  last  one  of  the  many  young  men  he 
prayed  for,  had  not  come  to  seek  the  way  of  sal- 
vation. 

243 


244  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

David  sat  down  in  the  plain  little  room,  twirled 
his  hat  on  his  hand,  and  blundered  awkwardly,  while 
the  pastor  listened  with  a  pained  face. 

On  hearing  the  short  story  he  was  greatly  troubled. 
He  begged  to  withdraw  and  speak  to  his  wife  about 
it.  He  went  out  of  the  room  and  was  gone  a  long 
time.  Upon  his  return  his  report  was  that  there  was 
only  One  thing  to  be  done.  Miss  Hardy  must  be  ap- 
proached on  the  subject  and  be  induced  to  tell  the 
truth;  and  the  truth  as  it  was,  he  would  circulate 
through  the  neighborhood.  He  had  no  doubt  but 
that  one  word  from  the  young  lady  would  set  mat- 
ters in  their  right  light. 

David  went  away  quite  satisfied.  He  lit  his  lamp 
in  his  lonely  cabin,  and  thought  of  poor  Hulda,  and 
all  the  charming  graces  Cis  had  displayed  of  late, 
crowned  by  the  act  of  her  having  the  care  of  an  un- 
known child  upon  her  young  and  inexperienced  hands. 

When  the  good  pastor  and  his  wife  were  preparing 
the  next  day  to  go  to  the  Hardy  cottage,  Hulda  her- 
self came  lightly  onto  the  porch  and  rapped  on  the 
study  door.  Millie  had  staid  with  her  one  night  and 
day,  while  Buck  patiently  lounged  about  the  hotel. 
The  next  morning  Hulda  came  down  from  her  room 
determined  to  take  up  the  burden  of  her  sorrow  as 
best  she  could. 

After  breakfast  she  had  a  talk  with  Mrs.  Cornman. 
The  teacher  and  his  wife  were  glad  to  rent  the  cot- 
tage and  furniture  as  it  stood,  leaving  Hulda  her  lit- 
tle bedroom  up-stairs  where  she  might  lock  up  her 
books  and  keepsakes,  and  special  articles  that  were 


THE    INQUISITION  245 

dear  to  her.  Mrs.  Cornman  was  a  very  satisfactory 
person  to  deal  with.  She  had  even  taken  an  in- 
ventory of  the  provisions  in  the  house,  and  estimated 
that  there  was  enough  to  pay  Hulda's  board  for 
several  weeks,  if  she  wished  to  stay. 

Hulda  had  covered  her  face  with  her  black  veil 
and  went  out  of  the  house  that  was  no  longer  hers. 
She  went  into  the  orchard,  sweet  with  late  blossoms. 
She  had  a  plan  of  getting  David  to  care  for  it;  she 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  its  being  neglected. 
She  followed  the  orchard  path,  and  went  out  into  the 
grove  of  young  pines.  The  path  through  the  pines  led 
to  the  old  weather  beaten  church,  and  the  low  un- 
painted  parsonage. 

She  was  received  by  her  good  friends  with  a  sub- 
dued kindness,  appropriate  to  her  affliction.  The  pas- 
tor's wife,  a  gentle  little  woman,  who  studiously 
echoed  her  husband,  gave  Hulda  the  best  rocker,  and 
sat  down  looking  at  her,  quite  at  a  loss  for  anything 
to  say.  She  observed  that  the  light  was  strong  in 
her  caller's  eyes,  and  rose  to  adjust  the  curtain. 
Hulda  turned  to  her  pastor. 

"I  came  in,"  she  said,  "to  get  you  to  do  a  little 
business  for  me,  that  I  want  to  have  done  as  soon  as 
possible.  Some  time  ago  mother  placed  all  her  prop- 
erty in  my  name.  We  have,  as  you  know,  a  thou- 
sand dollars  in  the  bank,  that  the  miners  presented  to 
my  mother  when  father  died.  Now  mother  is  gone 
and  I  am  able  to  support  myself,  and  I  wish  to  re- 
turn this  money  to  the  men  who  gave  it.  Some  are 
dead,  of  course,  and  some  cannot  be  found.  I  want 


246  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

this  balance  to  go  to  the  church,  and  if  all  the  people 
who  first  gave  this  money  are  willing,  I  would  like 
to  see  it  all  go  to  start  a  fund  for  a  new  church.  I 
do  not  feel  that  the  money  belongs  to  me.  My  house 
and  orchard  is  much  more  valuable,  than  when  father 
died,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  keep  the  money  anyway." 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  you   are    a   good  girl,"  cried 
the   pastor's   wife,  clasping    her  hands    in    ecstasy. 
But  the  minister  looked  gravely  at  the  girl. 

"This  is  a  very  solemn  step  you  are  taking  Miss 
Hardy.  You  need  the  money  more  than  the  church. 
You  might  wish  to  complete  your  education." 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  need,  Brother  Grace  way," 
interrupted  "Hulda. 

"Ah,  well,"  the  minister  rubbed  his  hands  slowly, 
"we  ought  to  take  this  under  advisement." 

"We  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Brother  Grace- 
way.  I  wish  you  to  give  out  a  notice.  I  have  the 
original  subscription  list  here.  The  people  can  come 
and  get  their  money  and  then  you  can  talk  to  them 
about  the  new  church.  Here  is  a  check  for  the 
amount  made  out  in  your  name.  Please  say  no 
more.  That  is  all  I  intend  to  do  about  it." 

She  rose  hurriedly  as  if  to  go.  The  gentle  little 
woman  came  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"You  are  a  noble  girl.  Some  of  those  men  are 
poor  now.  You  are  perfectly  right."  Hulda  smiled 
and  turned  away.  Mrs.  Graceway  bent  over  her  hus- 
band who  sat  as  if  stupefied,  the  papers  in  his  hand. 

"Father,  father,  sha'n't  we  say  something  about 
the  other  now?" 


THE    INQUISITION  247 

"Er— r,  yes,  of  course.     Call  her  back." 

The  woman  took  her  hand  quietly.  "Wait  a  min- 
ute, Miss  Hardy,  there  is  something  we  want  to  say." 

Hulda  sat  down  patiently,  and  looked  as  if  she  had 
no  interest  in  what  they  wished  to  say. 

"Ah,  well,  Miss  Hardy,"  the  minister  cleared  his 
throat  several  times.  "About  the  child,  er — the 
child.  Is  its  support  assured?" 

Hulda  straightened  up  and  opened  her  eyes  wildly. 

"What  child?" 

"Er — the  child  your  mother  raised.  I  speak  of  its 
support." 

"That  child,  Brother  Graceway,  is  not  an  heir  in 
any  sense  to  this  money.  Her  support  any  way  is 
assured." 

"Ah,  yes,  yes.  In  addition,  Miss  Hardy,  would 
you  have  any  objection,  Miss  Hardy,  to  telling  us 
something  further  about  the  child — its  history  and 
parentage.  I  ask  as  a  friend,  you  know." 

Hulda  started  violently,  and  dropped  her  head  on 
her  clasped  hands.  Since  her  last  conversation  with 
La  Grange  she  had  thought  much  over  the  fact  that 
although  she  had  given  up  her  lover  because  he 
seemed  lacking  in  honor,  yet  for  a  year  she  had  been 
living  and  telling  a  direct  falsehood  to  shield  a 
sufferer.  Having  taken  such  a  bold  stand  against 
deceit,  she  dared  not  try  to  reconcile  her  own  con- 
duct to  it.  But  she  was  not  prepared  with  an  answer 
to  this  question.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her,  that 
the  question  would  come  up  in  the  short  time  of  her 
stay,  before  she  would  return  to  Cherry  Creek. 


248  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

But  for  the  first  flash  of  thought  she  was  glad  the 
question  came  from  her  good  pastor.  He  was  patient 
and  kind,  and  he  might  not  think  it  strange  if  he 
were  not  answered  at  all.  So  she  finally  lifted  her 
head  calmly. 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  just  now  to  tell  you  anything 
about  her,  Brother  Graceway." 

Brother  Graceway  looked  around  at  his  wife, 
puzzled. 

"We  really  want  to  know,  Miss  Hardy,"  she  sug- 
gested. Hulda  looked  at  her  a  little  strangely. 

"Yes,"  continued  her  pastor,  "it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  we  should  know  the  facts  just  as  they 
are." 

Hulda  rose  distressed,  but  as  yet,  calm. 

"I  am  sorry,  but  there  is  nothing  to  telL  You 
must  not  ask  me." 

Her  look  of  candor  and  innocence  quelled  the  pas- 
tor into  silence.  She  turned  to  go,  but  Mrs.  Grace- 
way  came  close  and  touched  Hulda' s  arm  quietly, 
and  whispered: 

"You  must  tell  us,  dear,  for  people  say  it  is  your 
child." 

Hulda  turned  and  faced  them  with  a  wild  look  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  blanched  face. 

"You  see  we  ask  for  your  good," 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  murmured. 

The  pastor  and  his  wife  both  continued  to  make 
kind  and  gentle  remarks,  but  Hulda  heard  nothing. 

Mother,  home,  friends,  all  gone.  S  he  began  to 
tremble,  then  she  threw  up  her  hands  as  if  for  sup- 


THE    INQUISITION  249 

port,  and  knowing  there  was  a  lounge  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  she  walked  blindly  to  it,  and  dropped 
down  with  a  burst  of  tears  and  sobs.  All  the  efforts 
of  Mrs.  Graceway  availed  nothing.  She  neither  spoke 
nor  moved,  but  sobbed  her  strength  away. 

The  good  people  were  sorely  distressed.  At  noon, 
Mrs.  Graceway  brought  a  cup  of  tea  and  persuaded 
her  to  sit  up  and  drink  it. 

The  pastor  came  and  stood  by  her  and  spoke  in 
the  most  kind  and  gentle  manner. 

"You  see  we  want  to  break  up  the  talk,  that  is  why 
we  ask." 

The  girl  then  lifted  up  her  sad  eyes. 

"There  is  nothing  to  say.  I  cannot  tell  you.  Oh, 
my  friends,  my  friends,  how  can  they  say  it?" 

Presently  she  went  away  and  walked,  as  one 
stunned,  through  the  pines,  and  down  the  grassy  or- 
chard path,  and  came  to  her  old  home,  which  looked 
so  utterly  strange  to  her. 

Mrs.  Cornman  had  prepared  a  dainty  lunch  and 
kept  it  waiting  for  her  after  the  teacher  had  gone  back 
to  school;  but  she  saw  the  fixed  look  of  pain  on 
Hulda's  face,  and  let  her  walk  on  without  a  word,  to 
hide  herself  in  her  room. 

Hulda  came  down  later,  and  quietly  helped  about 
the  evening  meal,  but  she  ate  only  a  few  mouthfuls, 
and  Mrs.  Cornman  gently  pressed  her  to  go  back  to 
her  room,  as  she  saw  that  the  girl  gained  better  there 
than  anywhere  else. 

That  evening  the  Rev.  and  Mrs.  Graceway  called, 
and  wished  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cormnan  in  the  par- 


25O  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

lor.  They  state  the  case  briefly  and  wished  the 
teacher  and  his  wife  to  use  their  influence  to  induce 
Hulda  to  explain  the  matter. 

Joseph  Cornman  heard  a  few  words,  then  quietly 
rose  and  left  the  room,  and  going  out  of  J:he  house 
he  stumbled  on  David  leaning  over  the  front  gate.  He 
had  determined  in  his  own  mind  at  once  not  to  have 
any  hand  in  the  matter  whatever.  It  did  not  trouble 
him  to  see  the  girl  humiliated.  He  quite  hated  her 
now,  for  the  temporary  mental  treason  she  caused 
him  to  have  against  that  peerless  and  wonderful  wo- 
man, his  wife. 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Strong?" 

They  could  barely  see  each  other  in  the   darkness. 

"Has  she  told  anything  yet?"  whispered  David, 
huskily. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  answered  the  teacher  in- 
differently. 

"I  suppose  you  know  the  talk?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  with  a  circumflex. 

David  straightened  up  with  rising  anger. 

"Cornman,  do  you  think  of  such  a  thing  as  that 
girl's  being  guilty?  Lord,  if  I  thought  you  did,  I'd 
knock  you  down — When  you've  been  here  all  the 
time." 

Mr.  Cornman  drew  back.  He  seemed  inclined  to 
get  into  the  shelter  of  the  rosebush. 

"Keep  cool,  keep  cool.  In  any  case,  I  am  not  the 
man  to  knock  down."  He  laughed  as  if  the  matter 
was  of  no  consequence. 

"Bah."  David  walked  down  the  lane  to  smother 
his  anger. 


THE    INQUISITION    '  251 

The  next  morning  Hulda  came  to  breakfast,  pale 
and  quite,  and  Mrs.  Cornman  watched  her  furtively. 
After  breakfast  she  said  to  her: 

"This  is  going  to  be  a  lovely  day,  Hulda.  Don't 
you  feel  like  going  with  me  for  wild  flowers?  You 
know  you  promised  to  help  me  get  a  collection  of  all 
the  flowers.  I  think  you  will  feel  stronger  to  go." 

Hulda  quietly  assented.  Getting  shade  hats  and 
gloves,  the  two  women  went  out  through  the  orchard 
and  pines,  and  followed  a  little  stream  that  was 
finding  its  way  down  a  gentle  slope  to  the  gulch 
below. 

They  gathered  a  few  flowers  languidly  and  sat 
down  to  rest  on  a  flat  bowlder  in  the  shade  of  some 
manzanita  bushes.  Hulda  clasped  her  hands  and 
looked  down  at  the  thin  water  purling  over  the 
rocks.  There  was  no  joy  in  anything,  and  she  had 
determined  to  live  out,  as  best  she  could,  her  period 
of  dumb  despair. 

But  Mrs.  Cornman  was  only  waiting  to  speak  to 
her.  She  leaned  closer  to  the  girl's  ear. 

"Hulda,  why  do  you  try  to  bear  It  alone?  Why 
don't  you  tell  us?" 

Hulda  sat  motionless. 

"Ar^.'t  you  willing  to  confide  in  me?"  The  girl 
turned  a  grateful  face  to  her. 

"If  I  could,  Mrs.  Cornman." 

"But  why  can't  you?  You  are  injuring  yourself 
not  to  tell." 

"That  makes  no  difference." 

"But  it  is  wrong." 


252  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"No  matter." 

Mrs.  Cornman  was  silent  a  moment. 

"But  will  you  tell  me  one  thing.  Are  you  trying 
to  shield  a  friend  or  relative?" 

Hulda  saw  the  trap  at  once.  She  could  not  shield 
a  friend  and  tell  of  it.  She  turned  away  her  face, 
and  after  a  time  said  slowly. 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  say  anything 
whatever,  Mrs.  Cornman." 

"But  do  you  want  us  to  think  you  guilty?" 

Hulda  slowly  dropped  her  face  into  her  hands. 
Her  tears  were  falling  fast. 

"There  is  nothing  I  want — but — my  mother!  My 
dear,  dear  mother!" 

Mrs.  Cornman  had  never  met  with  an  experience 
of  this  kind  before.  She  did  not  know  what  to  think, 
and  in  the  absence  of  any  proof  she  resolved  to  re- 
frain from  any  judgment.  But  she  knew  that  the 
majority  would  come  to  only  one  conclusion — that 
the  girl  was  guilty. 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  said,  after  a  time.  "I  shall 
not  trouble  you  about  it.  But  you  must  let  me  ad- 
vise and  help  you.  Don't  you  think  I  can?" 

"O,  yes,  dear  Mrs.  Cornman."  She  bravely 
crushed  back  her  tears.  She  wanted  just  such  a 
friend;  one  wise  in  every  way.  She  had  always 
needed  a  friend  like  that.  Mrs.  Cornman  acted  from 
motives  of  pure  generosity  and  charity.  Her  hus- 
band, knowing  she  would  despise  him  if  he  did  other- 
wise, did  not  condemn  Hulda;  but  he  had  an  acrid 
manner  of  avoiding  the  subject  that  jarred  on  his 
wife's  nerves. 


THE    INQUISITION  253 

Hulda  had  grown  stronger,  and  that  same  day 
when  the  shadows  grew  long,  she  dug  out  several 
small  rosebushes  and  carried  them  alone  to  her 
mother's  grave.  David,  who  had  gone  there  volun- 
tarily to  work  about  the  graves  of  her  two  parents  in 
the  little  enclosed  lot,  came  out  of  the  narrow  space, 
and  let  her  go  in  alone.  But  Hulda  was  quite 
cheerful. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  David,"  she  said,  "this  is 
just  like  you.  Now  can  we  plant  these  bushes?" 

She  held  the  plants  while  he  placed  the  earth 
around  them.  She  was  perfectly  firm  and  self-con- 
tained. She  had  reasoned  that  there  was  yet  one, 
she  wished  to  protect  from  unnecessary  pain,  and 
that  one  was  the  ever  faithful  and  kind  David.  She 
knew  that  he  must  know  of  the  scandal,  and  she  had 
resolved  to  place  him  at  his  ease  as  far  as  his  insight 
in  regard  to  her  own  feelings  were  concerned. 

After  they  had  closed  the  picket  gate,  he  walked 
home  with  her  through  the  pines.  David  was  glad 
she  had  returned  her  money  to  the  donors,  and 
wanted  to  tell  her  so. 

"I  heard  you  was  a  thousand  dollars  poorer,"  he 
said,  "and  I  am  tarnal  glad  of  it." 

"Why,  Dave?" 

"I'm  glad  you  don't  owe  this  miserable  town  a 
cent." 

"Never  mind,  Dave,  you  know  I  don't  care  for  the 
town.  I  am  very  happy  in  my  school.  I  am  going 
back  there  to-morrow.  Millie  and  Buck  are  com- 
ing after  me.  Please  don't  worry  about  me,  Dave. 
Nothing  troubles  me,  but  mother." 


254  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

David  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  wondering  at  her 
indifference. 

"Hulda,  you  don't  know  how  lonely  I'll  be." 

"Yes,  Dave."  •  They  walked  on  with  choked  voices, 
their  eyes  filled  with  tears  until  they  reached  the  or- 
chard. 

"Dave,"  she  said,  "you  must  go  and  see  Cis  some- 
times, and  be  kind  to  her  for  my  sake.  Mother  loved 
her,  you  know." 

"Well,  I  will.  It's  my  nature  to  want  to  be  look- 
ing after  somebody." 

"Now,  good-night,  Dave,  and  come  and  say  good- 
by  in  the  morning." 

But  in  the  morning  she  went  to  the  Beverly  farm. 
She  did  not  wish  to  see  more  of  David  then.  In  the 
interval  Mrs.  Cornman  had  told  her  of  the  implica- 
tion of  David's  name  in  the  town  gossip,  and  she 
needed  yet  more  strength  in  every  way  to  give  David 
a  good  assurance  of  her  peace  of  mind.  The  slight- 
est hint  on  her  part,  that  she  was  being  crushed  by 
such  unkind  gossip,  might  start  David  into  a  series  of 
aggressive  blunders;  such  at  least  had  been  Mrs. 
Cornman' s  opinion,  and  Hulda  was  following  her 
advice.  Thus  fortune  at  last  had  sent  her  a  guide 
for  her  heedless  footsteps. 

Hulda  was  not  happy  in  her  school.  The  taste  of 
classical  studies  she  had  received  had  destroyed  her  rel- 
ish for  the  humdrum  work  of  training  the  young  chil- 
dren of  Cherry  Creek.  The  sorrow  preyed  upon  her 
more  when  she  realized  that  she  could  not  numb  her 
consciousness  by  the  labors  of  her  school-room  work. 


THE    INQUISITION  255 

The  sense  of  her  utter  loneliness  grew  heavier  upon 
her.  Her  mother  was  gone,  and  with  her,  by  a 
strange  combination  of  circumstances,  all  the  friends 
and  hopes  of  her  youth. 

The  practical  and  thoroughly  useful  Mrs.  Cornman 
had  not  yet  taken  a  place  in  the  girl's  heart  to  fill  the 
place  of  those  familiar  faces  of  her  earlier  years. 
Every  day  deepened  the  sense  of  banishment  and 
isolation  from  her  old  home.  Reflection  magnified 
the  evils  of  her  position  in  the  eyes  of  the  Hardup 
gossips,  and  she  began  to  feel  more  heavily  each  day 
the  burden  of  her  supposed  disgrace,  and  strange 
position.  She  reflected  that  they  might  in  time  hear 
of  it  at  Cherry  Creek,  and  the  good  people  there 
would  consider  her  unfit  to  instruct  their  tow-headed, 
bare-footed  urchins,  in  the  hot,  unpainted  school- 
house.  The  Woods,  who  were  so  gentle  and  kind  to 
her  since  she  wore  her  mourning  dress,  might  then 
lose  faith  in  her,  and  also  cast  her  from  their 
friendship. 

Her  cheeks  grew  paler  as  she  pondered  these  things, 
yet  in  her  heart  there  was  no  thought  of  wavering  in 
her  position  in  her  loyalty  to  her  mother's  dying 
wish. 

Harder  than  all  to  bear  was  the  thought  that  La 
Grange  would  hear  of  it.  She  thought  of  the  prac- 
tical reflections  that  would  arise  in  his  strong  mind. 
She  had  cast  him  away,  made  a  wild  lunge  at  the 
mote  in  his  eye,  while  the  beam  in  her  own  eye,  the 
defect  in  her  character  had  been  unspeakably  greater. 
He  could  only  despise  her,  forget  her,  cease  even  to 
think  of  her,  as  unworthy  of  his  memory. 


256  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

She  reflected  that  her  apparent  scorn  of  him  at  her 
mother's  funeral,  her  unconscious  refusal  to  speak  to 
him,  would  only  increase  her  present  culpability  in 
his  opinion.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  would  look 
upon  that  action  as  the  pure  audacity  of  guilt.  She 
felt  moreover,  that  the  stain  on  her  character  effectu- 
ally separated  her  from  him.  He  was  destined  by 
his  talents  alone  to  take  his  place  among  the  leading 
people,  and,  however  worthy  he  might  become  of 
her,  a  woman  with  a  blemished  character  should 
have  no  place  with  him.  As  she  saw  and  felt  her 
effectual  separation  from  him  for  these  reasons,  she 
began  to  allow  her  mind  to  lose  sight  of  the  defect 
she  had  found  in  his  character.  As  of  one  dead,  she 
thought  only  of  his  virtues  and  magnified  them.  He 
became  again  in  her  mind  and  heart  her  candid  book- 
laden  lover  of  the  past,  and  in  love  and  memory  of 
him,  she  tried  to  take  comfort  and  solace  from  her 
books. 

But  that  love,  having  no  hope  or  promise  at  all, 
lay  like  a  dead  weight  on  her  heart. 

Meanwhile  Hulda  was  tried  in  the  town  of  Hardup 
by  no  jury,  and  acquitted  by  no  judge.  No  one  knew 
anything,  yet  everyone  knew  something.  Those  who 
did  believe  in  the  girl  were  silenced  by  her  silence, 
and  could  have  nothing  to  say.  The  influence  of  the 
Rev.  Graceway  was  limited  to  the  members  of  his 
flock,  and  these  were  not  the  ones  who  discussed  the 
scandal,  and  some  of  them  never  heard  of  it. 

Most  of  Hulda' s  money  went  to  the  church.  A 
few  accepted  a  return  of  the  original  gift,  and  so 


THE    INQUISITION  257 

many  had  died  or  gone  away  that  most  of  the  donors 
preferred  to  see  their  part  swell  the  church  building 
fund. 

Those  who  believed  in  Hulda's  guilt  looked  upon 
her  return  of  the  money  as  a  proof  of  her  guilt,  consid- 
ering that  she  had  done  it  as  a  means  of  doing  'pen- 
ance, or  a  means  of  softening  the  public  judgment. 
Others,  who  were  more  pious  than  righteous,  thought 
the  church  needed  the  money  more  than  she  did. 
Only  a  few  were  conscious  of  the  true  nobility  of  the 
deed.  Among  these  was  Mrs.  Cornman,  who  placed 
an  Easterner's  estimate  upon  the  value  of  money. 

"Only  think,  Joseph,"  she  said  to  her  husband,  one 
morning  at  breakfast,  "she  could  have  taken  that 
money  and  left  this  ungrateful  place,  and  gone  to 
Vassar." 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  the  teacher  slowly,  "perhaps 
her  ambition  does  not  aspire  in  that  direction." 

"Well,  had  I  only  known  what  she  was  thinking  of, 
I  would  have  sent  her,  ambition,  money  and  all, 
straight  East." 

Mr.  Cornman  broke  his  toast  into  several  pieces, 
and  looked  into  his  plate. 

"Wait  till  you  have  had  more  experiecne  with  Cali- 
fornia girls,  Mrs.  Cornman,"  he  said  soberly. 

As  continued  dropping  wears  away  a  stone,  so  the 
teacher  by  a  lofty  silence,  or  an  appearance  of  con- 
scientious non-committal,  managed  after  a  time  to 
break  up,  Somewhat,  his  wife's  good  opinion  of 
Hulda.  She  concluded  that  discretion  was  the  better 
part  of  valor  in  case  anything  should  be.  wrong,  and 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    17 


258  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

although  she  determined  to  help  and  advise  the  girl 
all  she  could,  yet  she  withheld  the  tender  friendship 
and  mother  love  she  might  have  given  her, 

Soon  after  Hulda's  return  to  her  school,  David  in 
wrathful  disgust  packed  his  mule  and  returned  to 
Juniper  Gulch,  from  which,  however,  he  felt  inclined 
to  return  occasionally  encouraged  by  the  brighter 
smiles  and  kinder  ways  of  pretty  Cis  Beverly.  Cis 
was  growing  quite  like  herself  again.  She  was  be- 
coming bright,  winning  and  coquettish,  as  she  used 
to  be.  She  seldom  left  the  little  farm,  however, 
giving  her  life  to  the  care  of  the  old  folks  and  the 
child,  that  grew  healthier  and  prettier,  crowing  in  the 
sunshine,  while  Cis  picked  cherries  or  currants,  or 
worked  over  her  strawberry  bed. 

David  soon  began  to  come  to  spend  his  Sundays  at 
the  Beverly  farm  instead  of  going  on  to  Hardup,  and 
the  feeble  old  people  sitting  in  the  vine  shaded  porch, 
smiled  at  each  other  to  see  him  climb  the  cherry  tree 
for  Cis,  or  take  the  hoe,  and  change  the  water  ditches 
in  her  garden. 

The  spring  days  were  like  lovely  dreams,  at  this 
quiet  little  nook,  where  the  forest-covered  mountain 
had  spread  out  a  lap  at  its  foot,  wide  enough  for  a 
house  and  orchard,  and  a  little  hay  field. 

The  stony  creek,  with  its  diminishing  summer 
stream,  ran  below,  but  sufficient  spring-water  came 
out  of  the  mountain  to  make  the  orchard  famous  for 
its  productiveness. 

The  spring  air  was  rich  with  the  melody  of  the 
birds,  that  flocked  about  the  place  and  nested  in  the 


THE    INQUISITION  25Q 

vines  over  the  house.  The  old  fashioned  flower  gar- 
den was  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  the  rose,  the 
honey-suckle,  the  lemon  verbena,  mint  and  annis. 
Hollyhocks  stood  in  a  row  by  the  gate,  a  pink  olean- 
der grew  tall  by  the  window.  Bees,  humming-birds 
and  bumble-bees  contested  the  ownership  of  the 
flower  beds. 

It  was  all  very  pleasant.  David  began  to  feel 
more  and  more  at  home,  and  the  old  people  began  to 
rely  upon  him  as  the  natural  staff  of  their  old  age. 

Any  hint  of  Hulda's  ruined  character  never  came 
into  that  bird-haunted  little  home.  David  naturally 
would  not  speak  of  it,  Cis  remained  at  home,  and  no 
one  felt  disposed  to  disturb  the  tranquil  lives  of  the 
old  people  by  such  gossip. 

On  Sundays,  when  the  old  people  felt  particularly 
well,  they  would  climb  into  the  easy  old  buggy  and 
go  to  church,  but  Cis  preferred  to  stay  at  home  with 
the  child,  and  David  always  came  in  time  to  put  out 
the  old  horse  on  their  return.  They  brought  news 
of  the  fine,  new  church,  that  would  take  the  place 
of  the  old  one,  and  Hulda  s  name  was  spoken  with 
tender  love  by  the  old  people;  and  Cis  knelt  some- 
times by  her  white  bed,  and  whispered  it  with  welling 
tears  of  gratitude. 

Such  was  the  evolution  of  gentle  Cis  Beverly. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  SUMMER  BOARDER. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mrs.  Cornman  had  taken  a  sum- 
mer boarder.  She  had  a  natural  aversion  to  spending 
her  time  in  idleness.  She  possessed  a  spare  room, 
neatly  furnished,  and  she  very  soon  evolved  the  plan 
of  taking  a  summer  boarder  to  occupy  it;  one  who, 
besides  being  a  source  of  profit,  might  be  companion- 
able company.  Her  native  ability  suggested  a  plan 
of  obtaining  such  a  boarder.  She  wrote  to  the  pas- 
tors of  the  leading  churches  in  Sacramento,  stating 
that  she  would  open  her  pretty  mountain  home  to 
some  lady  of  refinement,  who  wished  a  good  country 
boarding  place.  Her  references  being  so  good  she 
at  once  received  a  reply  from  a  woman,  who  was  very 
glad  to  know  of  a  home  in  just  such  a  quiet  mountain 
town.  She  came,  and  there  was  great  mutual  satis- 
faction. 

She  was  a  woman  of  about  fifty  years,  with  soft 
abundant  gray  hair,  pretty  blue  eyes,  refined  manners 
and  habits,  and  her  clothes  were  rich  in  texture,  and 
made  with  perfect  taste. 

Mrs.  Cornman  read  aloud  to  her  boarder  from  the 
papers  and  magazines,  while  they  sat  in  the  rose  gar- 
den,  with  the  roses  hanging  all  about  them, 


THE    SUMMER   BOARDER  261 

"Oh,  how  I  do  enjoy  this,"  said  the  boarder  one 
day.  "I  like  some  one  to  read  to  me.  I  have  had 
several  young  girls  to  come  and  live  with  me,  but 
they  hardly  learned  to  read  well  before  they  were 
gone.  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Cornman,  marriage  is 
what  girls  think  of  most  in  this  country?  If  I  find  a 
nice  girl  that  I  liked,  I  would  give  her  a  good  educa- 
tion, and  treat  her  as  my  own  daughter,  just  to  have 
her  for  a  companion.  My  boy  is  away  at  school,  and 
I  am  lonely." 

Mrs.  Cornman  sat  down  that  night  and  wrote  to 
Hulda.  She  said: 

"Come  home  next  Friday  if  you  can.  I  want  you 
to  get  acquainted  with  my  boarder.  She  is  such  a 
lovely  woman,  and  I  may  get  you  something  better 
to  do  than  teaching  a  Third  Grade  country  school. 
Come  home." 

The  next  Friday  evening  Hulda  rode  in  on  Lila. 
It  was  a  sad  ride  for  her.  There  were  bitter-sweet 
memories  at  every  turn.  Lila  thrust  her  nose  into 
the  old  mossy  log  trough,  and  Hulda  bent  over  her 
neck,  with  a  sudden  choking  at  her  throat  and  a  swift 
rush  of  tears. 

•Mrs.  Cornman  met  her  at  the  gate,  kissed  her 
warmly  and  gave  her  some  tea  on  a  shining  white 
cloth  in  the  dining-room. 

Hulda  went  to  her  room  and  changed  her  habit  for 
a  soft  black  lawn  dress,  placed  a  cluster  of  Lady 
Banksia  roses  at  her  throat,  and  then  Mrs.  Cornman 
led  her  into  her  mother's  old  room  where  the  gentle, 
white  haired  woman  sat  in  the  lamplight,  which  was 
softened  by  a  pink  shade. 


262  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"This  is  my  orphan  friend,  Miss  Hardy." 

The  woman  was  looking  at  her  and  smiling.  She 
extended  both  her  hands. 

"  Why,  bless  you,  my  child,  I  know  you  already! 
I  have  often  thought  of  you.  Don't  you  remember 
me  ?  I  met  you  at  the  Sacramento  depot  a  year  and 
a  half  ago." 

The  recognition  was  mutual.  It  was  her  compan- 
ion on  that  fateful  trip  to  San  Francisco. 

The  next  day  Hulda  took  the  garden  hoe,  and  went 
out  through  the  orchard,  the  pines,  around  the  church, 
and  parsonage  to  the  graveyard  on  the  hill.  There 
would  be  thick  weeds  and  grasses  growing  tall  about 
the  young  rose-bushes  by  this  time.  The  graveyard 
had  been  cleared  from  a  thicket  of  scrub  oaks  and 
bushes.  There  had  been  some  shapely  wild  bushes 
left  in  the  cleared  place.  A  great  manzanita  bush 
stood  at  the  corner  of  the  white  picket  railing  of  her 
lot. 

She  opened  the  low  gate  and  sank  down  upon  her 
knees  with  her  hand  full  of  roses  from  the  cottage. 

"My  mother,  my  mother,"  she  sobbed  tremulously. 

But  there  were  no  grasses  or  weeds  there.  The  rose- 
bushes had  opening  buds  on  them,  and  the  ground 
was  clean  and  smooth.  David  had  done  everything. 

While  she  was  gone  Mrs.  Cornman  thought  it  best 
to  inform  Mrs.  Markham,  her  boarder,  of  the  scandal 
that  had  made  the  death  of  the  mother  such  a  pecul- 
iarly sad  loss  to  the  girl.  Mrs.  Markham  looked  dis- 
tressed, but  there  seemed  to  be  no  strong  impression 
made  on  her  mind. 


THE    SUMMER   BOARDER  263 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  take  the  girl 
away  from  such  ungrateful  people,  if  she  will  go  with 
me.  She  will  get  over  her  trouble  sooner,  too.  You 
mustn't  mind  California  gossip,  Mrs.  Cornman. 
When  you  have  heard  as  much  of  it  as  I  have,  you 
will  find  that  they  forget  it  as  quick  as  they  take  it 
up.  If  the  girl  wants  to  protect  some  friend,  I  say, 
let  her  alone." 

Hulda  went  back  to  Cherry  Valley  Sunday  fore- 
noon. She  had  no  desire  to  go  to  church  in  Hardup, 
and  her  absence  would  be  noted  if  she  had  remained 
at  the  cottage.  She  had  decided  to  go  with  Mrs. 
Markham,  who  had  promised  her  every  ejducational 
advantage  that  Sacramento  afforded,  in  return  for  her 
company.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  character 
and  standing  of  Mrs.  Markham.  The  pastor  of  the 
First  M.  E.  Church  in  Sacramento  had  given  her  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  Mrs.  Cornman,  and  Mrs. 
Cornman  had  known  the  pastor  of  the  First  M.  E. 
Church  in  the  East. 

Mrs.  Markham  wished  to  return  home  in  three 
weeks,  and  Hulda  had  promised  to  resign  her  position 
and  go  with  her.  She  would  miss  the  pleasant  home 
with  the  Woods'  family,  and  Lila,  and  the  children 
of  her  school,  who  were  now  improving  rapidly.  But 
neither  Mrs.  Cornman  or  Mrs.  Markham  would  listen 
to  any  refusal. 

"It  is  the  best  chance  a  girl  like  you  ever  had," 
said  Mrs.  Cornman.  "The  rent  of  your  house  will 
clothe  you,  and  more  too,  and  she  will  furnish  the 
rest.  Don't  think  of  refusing." 


264  DAVID    OP   JUNIPER    GULCH 

It  was  very  quiet  at  the  Woods'  farmhouse  when 
Hulda  stopped  Lila  at  the  gate  about  noon.  The 
children  were  at  play  far  down  in  the  orchard,  and 
they  did  not  see  her.  So  she  unsaddled  Lila  at  the 
porch  and  led  her  to  the  barn,  something  she  had 
never  done  before;  there  had  always  been  some  one 
to  welcome  and  assist  her.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
sitting-room,  so  she  went  into  her  room  at  the  end 
of  the  porch.  She  changed  her  habit  for  a  cool  calico 
dress,  and  brushed  and  recoiled  her  hair.  She  turned 
to  her  book-stand  to  place  her  hand  on  the  well  worn 
Shakespeare  La  Grange  had  given  her,  and  noticed 
for  the  fir^t  time  an  envelope  lying  there.  It  was 
addressed  in  a  cramped,  irregular  penmanship,  "Miss 
Hardy,  Teacher."  She  opened  it  wonderingly.  The 
writer  or  writers  had  made  an  illiterate  attempt  at  a 
dignified  communication! 
To  Miss  Hardy,  Teacher. 
"Miss:- 

"We  held  a  school  meeting  to-day,  and 
we  elected  new  trustees.  We,  the  undersigned  trus- 
tees, think  we  had  rather  have  a  change  of  teachers, 
and  we  want  you  to  resign  at  the  end  of  your  month 
in  two  weeks. 

"J.  BATES, 
"R.  GEDERS, 
"P.  MARKS, 

"Trustees." 
"Saturday,  June  3rd,  P.  M." 

Hulda  laid  down  the  paper  and   stood   motionless. 
The  last  trial  had  come,  in  all  ways  the  worst.      The 


THE    SUMMER    BOARDER  265 

scandal  had  reached  Cherry  Valley,  and  she  was  not 
considered  fit  to  instruct  the  stupid  little  children  of 
these  uncultured  parents.  With  a  moan  she  fell 
across  her  bed  clutching  at  the  white  counterpane, 
and  lay  motionless. 

It  must  have  been  several  hours  after,  when  Mrs. 
Woods  pushed  open  the  door  and  came  in.  She  saw 
the  white  face  of  the  girl,  who  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  at  her  without  a  word.  Mrs.  Woods  had  made 
the  blow  harder  by  not  giving  the  girl  any  welcome 
at  all  on  her  return,  and  whatever  may  have  been 
the  cause  of  such  neglect,  she  seemed  repentant  now. 
She  threw  herself  on  the  bed  and  wound  her  arms 
about  the  stricken  girl. 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Neither  does  any- 
body who's  got  any  sense.  Please  don't  feel  so  bad, 
Miss  Hardy.  Please  don't  look  so." 

This  burst  of  sympathy  brought  the  relief,  and 
Hulda  turned  her  face  to  the  pillow  with  a  flood  of 
tears.  Mrs.  Woods  sat  and  held  her  hand,  and  Hulda 
lay  silent.  Finally  Mrs.  Woods  said: 

"I  have  heard  that  you  won't  deny  it.  If  the 
child  isn't  yours,  why  don't  you  say  so?" 

Hulda  sat  up  rigidly  and  drew  away.  She  then 
knew  that  this  little  friend  who  had  been  so  kind,  had 
in  fact  some  doubt  as  to  her  innocence. 

"Mrs.  Woods,  they  didn't  ask  me  to  dfcny  it. 
They  asked  me  whose  it  was,  and  I  refused  to  make 
any  reply.  Those  people  are  crazy;  they  know  it 
isn't  mine." 

"Well,  there,    I   believe  you,"  said    Mrs.  Woods, 


266  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

slowly.  "I  am  sorry  the  rumor  came  here;  the  trus- 
tees thought  it  was  bad  enough  to  have  that  kind  of 
talk  about,  even  if  it  was  not  true.  I  am  sorry  for 
you,  especially  since  you  feel  so  bad  about  it." 

She  smoothed  Hulda's  hand  gently  for  a  moment, 
then  went  suddenly  out  of  the  room.  She  had  not 
tempered  the  pain  in  the  least,  and  the  girl  knelt  by 
her  bed  in  prayerless  despair,  till  Alex  came  tapping 
at  her  door  to  call  her  to  evening  tea. 

But  Monday  morning  little  Susie  Bates  brought  her 
a  note  that  gave  her  more  heartfelt  pleasure  than  any 
grammatical  communciation  she  had  ever  received. 
She  kissed  it  and  thrust  it  in  her  bosom.  It  brought 
back  the  sound  of  dancing  on  a  pine  platform,  and 
the  memory  of  a  night  ride  through  the  forest. 

"Dear  old  teacher:  — 

"Buck  and  me  wants  you  to  come  to  our  house 
after  school,  and  we'll  hitch  up  and  get  your  trunk. 
Buck  says  you  sha'n't  stay  at  anybody's  else's  house 
while  you  are  here.  Buck's  mad  enough.  Now, 
please  come,  my  dear  old  teacher. 

"Millie  Dorms." 

So  after  dismissing  her  children,  Hulda  walked 
over  the  gravelly  hills  to  a  small,  unpainted,  new  pine 
house  on  a  slope  by  a  wooded  gulch.  There  was  no 
fence  and  a  line  of  white  clothes  hung  in  bold  relief 
against  the  red  background  of  the  hill.  Millie  came 
out  the  open  door  and  ran  down  to  meet  her.  She 
was  attired  in  a  freshly  ironed,  wide  muslin  dress  that 
made  her  look  far  too  bunchy;  she  was  clean,  and 
sweet  as  ever.  She  kissed  Hulda  and  clung  to  her 
arm,  leading  her  in. 


THE    SUMMER   BOARDER  267 

"You  will  stay  with  us,  won't  you?"  she  said. 
The  front  room  was  carpeted  with  a  very  red  in- 
grain carpet,  and  furnished  with  a  few  pieces  of 
cheap  pine  furniture;  and  the  little  bedroom  had 
evidently  shared  its  furniture  with  another  sleeping 
room,  but  the  walls  were  lined  with  white  muslin, 
and  Millie's  frank  hospitality  made  it  a  welcome  and 
pleasant  home  to  the  heart-sick  girl.  She  knew 
these  simple-hearted  friends  trusted  her  without  a 
question. 

"Where's  your  husband?"  she  said,  bathing  her 
face  in  the  water  Millie  had  brought. 

"Oh,  he's  out  herding  turkeys.  He'll  be  here  by 
the  time  I  get  supper.  Won't  you  lie  down  on  the 
lounge  in  the  parlor  and  rest  while  I  go  out  and  get 
supper  going?" 

Hulda  was  glad  to  lie  down,  and  listen  to  Millie 
stepping  briskly  around  on  the  bare  floor  in  the  next 
room. 

Presently  Buck  came  and  sat  down  in  the  doorway 
where  he  could  see  both  the  women.  His  wrath  at 
the  action  of  the  new  board  had  in  no  way  subsided. 
"It's  the  dirtiest  piece  of  work  I  ever  heard  of. 
They're  a  blamed  set  of  fools.  They  ain't  got  any 
more  against  you  than  you've  got  against  my  turkeys, 
not  a  bit.  But  old  Pete  Marks  was  up  to  Hardup, 
and  he  asked  Cornman  there  if  that  darned  story 
was  true,  and  he  couldn't  get  yes  nor  no  out  of  that 
blamed  rascal.  He  just  twisted  his  greasy  old  shoul- 
ders. Oh,  I  didn't  like  that  old  injun  the  first  time 
I  saw  him!" 


268  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Buck,  do  hush!" 

Millie  came  and  wound  her  plump  arm  over  his 
mouth,  and  Buck  took  it  down  and  held  it. 

"What  does  that  old  Pete  Marks  know  anyway? 
Why,  he  couldn't  figger  up  the  price  of  ten  turkeys 
if  they  was  worth  a  dollar  apiece." 

Hulda  laughed  then,  and  Millie  took  them  in  to 
supper.  What  an  appetizing  smell  of  steak,  and 
what  a  great,  mellow,  crisp-looking  jelly  cake! 

What  with  the  well  meant  rude  bluntness  of  Buck 
and  the  good  cooking  of  Millie,  Hulda  did  not  fare 
so  badly  during  the  remainder  of  her  time  at  Cherry 
Creek. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CALLED  AWAY  TO  A  SURE  PROOF. 

On  a  mild,  soft  winter  day  in  latter  December  of 
the  same  year,  Hulda  sat  before  an  easel  in  the 
library  room  of  Mrs.  Markham's  home  in  Sacramento. 
She  was  quietly  dressed,  though  in  richer  material, 
than  we  have  seen  her  wear  on  the  rocky  roads  of 
the  placer  regions;  and  her  hair  was  drawn  back  in 
the  perfect  Grecian  coil,  worn  at  that  time,  with 
soft  curls  around  her  neck  and  forehead.  Her  face 
lacked  the  old  ruddy  color,  but  it  had  gained  in 
strength  and  grace  of  expression. 

Back  of  her  chair,  where  the  sunlight  shone  full 
upon  the  slender  figure,  clad  in  gray  silk,  sat  Mrs. 
Markham.  She  had  a  piece  of  gold  colored  velvet 
fastened  on  a  frame  in  her  hand,  upon  which  she  was 
working  some  design.  But  mostly  the  frame  lay  in 
her  lap,  and  she  was  watching  her  companion. 

Hulda  was  working  on  the  finishing  touches  of  -a 
large  panel  painting  of  hollyhocks,  in  oil.  She  was 
working  slowly,  as  an  amateur  works,  leaning  back 
occasionally  and  waiting  for  some  criticism  from  Mrs. 
Markham. 

"I  am  afraid,  auntie,"  she  said,  "that  they  are  not 
as  good  as  my  morning-glories." 

269 


270  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

They  glanced  at  a  canvas  in  the  corner  on  which 
a  mass  of  morning-glories  were  climbing  over  an 
adobe  wall. 

"They  are  both  lovely,"  returned  Mrs.  Markham, 
"and  Archie  will  be  delighted  with  his  Christmas 
presents." 

"I  wish  I  were  sure  he  would  be  delighted  with 
me." 

"He  will,  dear.  A  girl  who  can  learn  to  handle 
the  brush  as  you  have  in  six  months,  can  make  a 
school-boy  like  her." 

"It  isn't  my  talent,  dear  Mrs.  Mrakham,  it  is  the 
talent  of  the  teacher  you  have  employed  for  me." 

Mrs.  Mrakham  smiled. 

"Well,  whose  talent  is  it  that  has  made   you    finish 
up  a  year's  work  in  the  High  School  in  half  a  year?" 

"Oh,  I  had  had  most  of  the  studies  except  mathe- 
matics, before  I  came.  Prof.  Grey  is  a  great  dem- 
onstrator. It  is  only  by  his  help  that  I  will  graduate 
in  June." 

"Prof.  Grey  is  demonstrating  one  thing  to  me," 
said  Mrs.  Markham,  emphatically. 

"Auntie,  don't  be  cross  with  him." 

"Well,  he  is  demonstrating  to  me  that  I  shall  have 
to  put  up  my  sign  again.  'No  proposals  to  my  com- 
panion accepted. '" 

Hulda  bent  closer  to  her  work. 

"But,  auntie,  you  invite  him  here  yourself.  Why 
do  you  ask  him  to  your  Christmas  dinner?" 

"My  Christmas  dinner  on  the  24th?"  laughed  Mrs. 
Markham.  "Well,  there  are  a  great  many  reasons. 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A     SURE    PROOF  271 

I  want  to  put  you  in  the  best  society,  even  if  I  don't 
want  you  to  marry.  Then  the  dinner  is  for  Archie, 
and  I  want  him  to  know  all  my  friends.  He  is  only 
fifteen,  but  I  want  him  to  learn  to  feel  as  much  at 
ease  with  the  best  people  as  he  is  with  the  boys  at 
school.  There  dear,  you  have  that  light  just  right, 
don't  put  another  touch  of  paint  on  that  picture  It's 
just  as  lovely  as  it  can  be.  Carry  it  up  to  your  studio, 
Hulda,  and  bring  down  the  ribbon;  I  want  to  see 
you  begin  on  the  dinner  favors." 

There  were  fifteen  slips  of  satin  ribbon  to  decorate 
with  flowers,  sprays  and  sentiments  for  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  dinner,  to  be  given  on  account  of  a  pressure 
of  events  on  the  24th. 

The  girl  took  the  bright  panel  picture,  shining 
against  her  dark  dress,  and  left  the  room.  She 
seemed  to  have  grown  taller,  and  her  manners  were 
graceful  and  quiet. 

As  she  went  out  of  the  room,  across  the  next  room 
into  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs,  her  footsteps  made 
no  sound  on  the  rich  carpets.  Mrs.  Markham's  home 
was  everything  that  the  taste  of  a  wealthy  woman 
could  make  it.  The  house  had  been  originally  a 
large  square-built  mansion,  with  French  windows  and 
blinds,  a  style  of  dwelling  very  much  admired  at  the 
time  of  its  erection,  and  Mrs.  Markham,  not  wishing 
to  materially  change  the  home  that  was  a  memorial 
to  her  of  her  husband,  had  merely  added  to  the  orig- 
inal, modeling  her  improvements  according  to  the 
best  taste  of  the  time. 

The    library  was  an  addition  with  square  bay  win- 


272  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

dows,  and  a  tower  like  room  above,  opening  upon  an 
enclosed  square  balcony.  This  upper  chamber  was 
Hulda's  room. 

Her  front  parlor  had  been  enlarged  by  a  broad  cir- 
cular bay  window,  making  above  a  pretty  tower  room 
and  window  where  Mrs.  Markham  took  her  breakfast, 
and  looked  down  upon  her  garden. 

The  square  look  of  the  house  had  been  entirely 
relieved  by  the  addition  of  gables  and  oriel  windows, 
and  well  studied  changes  in  the  roof.  The  grounds 
were  large  and  thickly  planted  with  shrubbery,  and 
there  was  a  carriage  drive  through  the  grounds  to  the 
stable  in  the  rear. 

A  large  glass  conservatory,  full  to  the  roof  with 
plants,  was  a  back  wing  of  the  house,  connected  with 
the  dining-room  by  a  covered  passage. 

The  interior  of  the  house  had  been  changed  and 
improved  from  year  to  year,  and  the  furnishing 
showed  choice  selection  from  the  various  local  epochs 
of  modern  taste. 

But  there  was  everywhere  subdued,  yet  cheerful, 
coloring;  the  vases- and  bric-a-brac  were  choice  and 
elegant,  and  engraving  and  etching  mainly  adorned 
the  walls. 

Mrs.  Markham  had  been  among  the  first  to  encour- 
age an  art  interest  in  the  city,  and  had  placed  Hulda 
under  the  best  teacher  the  town  afforded,  as  much 
perhaps  to  improve  her  own  criticism,  as  to  educate 
her  talented  protege*. 

Archibald,  her  son,  was  fond  of  music,  and  when 
at  home  had  been  allowed  to  indulge  his  favorite  in- 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A     SURE    PROOF  273 

tellectual  bias  at  will.  The  back  parlor,  or  music 
room,  contained  a  piano  and  organ;  a  violin,  and  a 
guitar  stood  in  cases  in  the  corner,  but  a  flute  and 
cornet  had  been  surreptitiously  carried  away  to  school. 

Brought  into  such  rich  and  refining  surroundings,  the 
association  alone  would  have  been  an  education  to 
the  mountain  girl.  But  Mrs.  Markham,  desiring  co 
make  her  a  companion  in  every  way,  had  crowded 
the  girl's  mental  capacity.  So  much  had  every 
moment  been  occupied,  that  Hulda  had  had  little  time 
to  think  of  her  lost  home  and  friends. 

As  Christmas  time  drew  near,  Mrs.  Markham  had 
suggested  a  box  of  cigars  for  David  Strong,  and  some 
toilet  cases  for  Mrs.  Cornman,  and  they  had  been 
duly  purchased  and  sent  off.  Mrs.  Markham  insisted 
on  paying  for  the  pleasure  of  her  suggestions. 

On  the  evening  of  the  22nd,  Archibald  arrived, 
intent  on  making  the  most  of  a  week's  vacation. 
One  could  not  help  liking  Archie.  Round,  wide  blue 
eyes,  an  open  countenance,  vivacious  manners,  friend- 
liness with  every  one — that  was  Archie  Markham. 
He  had  become  thoroughly  acquainted,  as  he  thought, 
with  Hulda  during  his  summer  vacation,  and  now  as 
soon  as  he  had  greeted  his  mother  he  ran  up  toHulda's 
room,  threw  open  the  door,  and  embraced  and  kissed 
the  astonished  girl  effusively. 

"You  dear  old  girl,"  he  cried,  "you've  taken  fine 
care  of  my  pretty  mamma.  Say,  can  you  play  ac- 
companiments yet?  I  know  a  daisy  piece  on  the 
violin.  It's  awful  easy,  too.  Come  on,  I  want 
mamma  to  hear  it." 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    18 


274  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

"It  will  have  to  be  awful  easy,  truly,  if  I  play  the 
accompaniment,  but  I'll  try."  And  the  two  came 
down  stairs  arm  in  arm. 

The  dinner  was  just  Archie's  idea  of  a  good  time. 
Early  on  the  morning  of  the  24th,  he  interviewed  Ah 
Moon  and  found  out  of  just  what  the  dinner  was  to 
consist,  and  how  it  was  to  be  served.  Then  Mike 
Donovan,  the  coachman,  gardener  and  all  around 
help,  was  subjected  to  a  cross  examination  in  the  barn 
loft,  and  it  was  evolved  that  the  carriage  was  to  be 
sent  for  the  minister  and  his  wife,  and  an  insurance 
man  and  wife,  and  the  widow  Crosby. 

An  hour  before  the  time  set  for  the  guests  to  arrive 
he  stood  in  the  hall  outside  his  mother's  dressing 
room,  where  Hulda  was  putting  the  last  touches  to 
his  mother's  toilet.  He  was  tapping  on  the  door 
impatiently. 

"I  want  to  give  you  my  presents  now,"  «he  cried. 
"I  am  tired  of  packing  them  around." 

Hulda  went  to  her  own  room,  and  Mrs.  Markham 
opened  the  door.  She  wore  a  black  satin  dress  with 
an  abundance  of  black  lace,  and  her  hair  lay  in  shin- 
ing silver  puffs  high  on  her  head. 

Archie  kissed  her  affectionately.  "You  look  stun- 
ning, mamma,  I  knew  you  would  rather  see  my 
Christmas  present  now."  He  took  an  envelope  from 
his  pocket  and  unfolded  some  papers. 

"They  are  my  terms'  reports,  mamma.  All  ninety- 
five  per  cent." 

"God  bless  you,  my  son,"  said  the  mother.  "I 
know  you  have  worked  hard  to  get  me  this  present. 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  275 

Indeed  you  are  right,  I  prize  it  more  than  anything 
you  could  buy  for  me.  I  want  to  show  them  to  our 
pastor.  But  I  hope  you  have  something  for  Miss 
Hardy." 

"Yes,  mamma." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  little  box,  and  revealed 
a  gold  collar  pin,  with  a  row  of  pearls  across  it.  Mrs. 
Markham  examined  it  critically. 

"That  is  in  very  good  taste,  Archie.  It  will  har- 
monize with  what  I  gave  her.  I  have  insisted  upon 
her  laying  off  her  black  dresses.  I  got  her  a  silk  dress 
and  she  will  wear  it  to-day." 

At  that  moment  Hulda  came  out  of  her  room.  She 
wore  a  perfectly  fitted  navy  blue  silk  dress  made  en- 
train, and  with  old-gold  velvet  panels,  and  vest. 

"Glorious,"  cried  the  boy.  "Why,  Hulda,  you're 
a  long  sight  handsomer  than  I  thought  you  was." 

He  fastened  the  pin  at  her  throat  and  stood  off  to 
admire  the  effect.  Hulda  encircled  Mrs.  Markham's 
waist,  her  eyes  shining  with  tears. 

"You  are  both  of  you  too  kind,"  she  stammered 
"I  can  never  repay  you." 

The  faint  silver  tones  of  a  bell  sounded  through 
the  hall.  Archie  was  looking  from  the  oriel  window. 

"It's  Mike  with  the  carriage  full  of  preachers  and 
church  members,"  he  said  "Ct>me  on,  now,  and 
see  me  lay  out  my  good  behavior  and  grammar." 

With  smiles  of  amusement  and  pleasure,  and  the 
rustle  of  silken  trains,  the  two  women  followed  the 
boy  down  the  broad  stairs. 

The  guests  at  the  dinner  party  were  as  various  in 


276  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

characteristics,  as  their  names   and   appearances  in- 
dicated. 

There  was  Dr.  Welcome,  a  widower,  a  portly  man 
with  a  round,  well  colored  face,  who  attached  himself 
with  a  modulated  flow  of  talk  to  Col.  Bruner,  a  tall, 
graceful  man  with  long,  gray  side  whiskers,  who  took 
the  opportunity  to  introduce  his  favorite  theme,  Life 
Insurance. 

Lucy  Welcome,  a  demure  young  lady  with  shining 
dark  eyes,  only  thirteen  years  of  age,  crept  into  a 
chair  behind  her  father,  and  did  not  speak  till  she 
was  asked  to  go  to  the  piano.  Then  she  came  out 
and  played  several  difficult  selections  with  wonderful 
skill,  which  explained  her  presence  at  the  dinner 
party. 

There  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gartner,  who  were  very 
rich  and  very  refined,  and  exceedingly  quiet  in  their 
manners.  Mrs.  Gartner  was  popularly  supposed  to 
be  intellectual,  but  Hulda  never  obtained  her  confi- 
dence sufficiently  to  find  out  upon  what  subjects  her 
intellectuality  expended  itself.  The  Gartners  were 
very  religious  people. 

The  widow  was  a  cheerful  little  old  lady,  whose 
sterling  qualities  and  fund  of  wit  and  humor  made  her 
ns  much  sought  after  as  a  reigning  belle.  Archie  was 
careful  to  reserve  a  seat  for  himself  by  her  side. 

The  Rev.  Henry  Newcome  was  a  host  at  entertain- 
ing, and  went  from  one  to  another  with  ready 
speeches.  Mrs.  Newcome,  a  round  faced  little  wo- 
man, with  restless  eyes  that  seemed  to  see  everything 
came  to  Hulda,  first  with  a  compliment  on  her  per- 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  277 

sonal  appearance,  and  then  with  a  direct  appeal  that 
she  should  recite  "Milton's  Nativity"  at  the  Church 
Christmas  tree  that  evening. 

She  would  take  no  refusal.  "Mrs,  Markham  says 
you  recite  it,"  she  said,  "and  we  are  determined  to 
have  it.  There  are  so  few  who  can  recite  it." 

At  a  nod  from  Mrs.  Markham,  Hulda  yielded.  She 
had  already  agreed  to  recite  the  "Curfew  Bells"  at 
the  high  school  party  Christmas  night.  This  popu- 
larity was  not  unpleasant  to  her. 

"And  after  all,"  she  thought,  when  she  dared  take 
the  time  to  think,  "it  is  just  what  La  Grange  would 
have  liked  me  to  be.  My  life  can  at  least  show  him, 
that  although  I  lack  reputation  and  sense,  yet  I  do 
not  lack  ambition." 

In  the  meantime  Archibald  was  entertaining  the 
widow  Crosby. 

"I'll  tell  you  just  what  our  program  is,"  he  said. 
"To-night  we  are  all  going  to  the  Christmas  tree  at 
the  church.  The  carriage  will  bring  mamma  home 
early,  and  come  back  after  Miss  Hardy  and  me  at 
twelve,  or  one  o'clock,  I  guess.  To-morrow  morning 
early  Miss  Hardy  and  I  are  going  in  the  carriage  out 
to  somewhere  about  3Oth  street,  to  take  what's  left 
of  to-day's  feast  to  a  family  out  there,  poor  folks, 
you  know.  Then  we  are  all  going  to  the  Christmas 
service  at  the  Episcopal  Church.  And  at  two  o'clock 
we  go  to  dinner  at  the  governor's  house.  The  gover- 
nor is  an  old  friend  of  mamma's,  you  know. 

"Then  I  have  an  invitation  to  the  high  school  party. 
We're  going  to  have  a  big  day,  don't  you  think?" 


278  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

The  faint  tinkle  of  a  bell  announced  that  Ah  Moon 
and  his  temporary  assistant  were  ready  to  serve  the 
guests. 

"There  now,  Sister  Crosby,  if  you'll  let  me  help 
you,  I'll  take  you  in  to  dinner.'* 

It  was  while  the  guests  were  going  to  the  dining- 
room,  that  Hulda  saw  a  telegraph  messenger  coming 
up  the  front  steps.  A  moment  after  she  was  in  the 
hall  an  open  message  in  her  hand.  It  was  from  Mrs. 
Cornman. 

"Grandpa  Beverly  died  last  night.      Mrs.  Beverly 
is  very  low.      Asks  for  you.      Come." 

It  seemed  like  a  message  from  another  world.  Why 
must  she  be  called  from  these  pleasures  and  comforts 
to  the  bedside  of  an  old  woman  in  the  mountains? 
Then  a  rush  of  understanding  came  after  her  first 
startled  thoughts.  Of  course,  she  was  Cis  Beverly's 
only  protector  and  friend,  and  the  poor  girl  would 
have  to  have  her  there  in  that  time  of  bereavement 
and  trouble.  In  truth  she  was  Cis  Beverly's  protec- 
tor, and  that  meant  new  responsibility  and  care. 

Mrs.  Markham  came  looking  for  her,  and  found  her 
bowed  over  the  telegram  with  strained,  staring  eyes. 

She  took  the  paper  from  her  hand  and  read  it, 
then  placed  her  hand  on  Hulda's  shoulder  kindly  but 
firmly. 

"Of  course  you  may  go.  That  is  settled.  But 
you  must  not  give  away  like  this.  These  are  only 
old  friends  of  yours;  you  must  make  no  difference 
before  our  guests.  Now,  Hulda,  I'll  tell  you.  You 
run  out  and  see  Mike.  Tell  him  to  go  directly  to  the 


CALLED    AWAY   TO    A    SURE    PROOF  279 

depot  and  see  if  there  is  any  night  train  you  can  go 
on.  Then  tell  Moon  to  give  you  a  little  wine,  and 
come  to  the  dining-room.  You  must  learn  self-con- 
trol among  other  things.  Can  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,  auntie,"  said  the  girl  with  a  grateful  clasp  of 
her  hand. 

The     dinner  seemed    like    a     dream    to    Hulda. 
Through  the  sparkle  of  glass,  the   shining   of    silver, 
the  savory  odors,  the  laughter  and  brilliant  conversa- 
tion, she  seemed  to  see  Cis  Beverly   with   her    child, 
waiting  alone  by  the  gate   of  the  desolate  farmhouse. 

At  six  o'clock  the  excitement  was  all  over,  and  she, 
with  a  dark  dress  and  plain  hat,  was  with  Archie  in 
the  carriage  at  the  depot,  waiting  for  the  express 
train. 

As  the  train  rolled  over  the  long  American  river 
bridge,  she  lay  back  in  her  seat  and  abandoned  her- 
self to  the  sorrow  of  her  thoughts.  She  was  no  longer 
the  petted  and  admired  plaything  of  Mrs,  Markham. 
She  was  the  sad-eyed  Hulda  Hardy,  whom  destiny 
had  singled  out  for  self  sacrifice  and  not  pleasure. 
There  was  only  one  thing  to  do.  The  conviction  had 
come  surely  and  clearly  to  her  conscience.  She 
would  have  to  leave  her  new  home  with  all  its  bril- 
liant prospects,  and  go  and  live  with  Cis  and  care  for 
her  and  protect  her  and  Nonie.  She  pictured  herself 
keeping  the  ditches  around  the  orchard  trees,  and 
taking  the  eggs  to  market.  Sometime  Cis  might 
marry  and  free  her,  but  she  shuddered  at  the  thought; 
that  must  be  prevented.  Anyway  it  would  leave 
Nonie  with  her. 


280  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

• 

Had  there  been  any  hesitation  as  to  her  duty  the 
struggle  would  have  been  harder;  but  the  conviction 
came  so  strong,  that  it  was  only  after  her  plans  had 
been  made  that  she  realized  how  hard  it  would  be  to 
go  back  and  part  with  Mrs.  Markham,  and  take  her 
books  and  clothes  from  her  pretty  rooms  in  the  square 
wing. 

Late  as  it  was,  there  was  quite  a  crowd  at  the  Forest 
Grove  depot,  and  several  people  alighted  with  her 
from  the  train.  She  saw  her  old  friend  Hicks  walk- 
ing about,  scrutinizing  the  arrivals.  He  passed  her 
several  times,  then  he  turned  and  lifted  his  lantern 
to  throw  the  light  in  her  face. 

"Cracky!"  he  exclaimed.  "Who'd  a  thought  this 
was  you?  What  a  tony  cut  you  have  got  on  you  any- 
way! Why,  you've  grown  a  foot  taller!" 

Hulda  took  his  hand,  and  reassured  him  by  her 
smile,  that  she  was  something  like  her  old  self.  She 
followed  him  to  the  corner  of  the  platform. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I'll  tell  you  just  how  it  is.  I'm 
up  here  with  a  light  rig  and  a  span  of  horses,  and  I've 
got  to  go  down  to  Hardup  to-night  to  make  my  reg- 
ular trip  to-morrow.  They'll  be  a  lot  of  travel. 
Now  if  you're  afraid  to  go  over  the  road  after  dark, 
you  can  stay  and  get  a  horse  and  saddle  at  daylight, 
and  get  down  there  pretty  near  as  quick." 

"Why,  Hicks,"  cried  the  girl.  "What  are  you 
talking  about?  Me  to  be  afraid  after  dark?  I  guess 
you  have  forgotten  what  kind  of  a  girl  I  am.  Of 
course  I'll  go  with  you." 

"Well,"  said  Hicks,  "got  any  luggage?" 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  28 1 

"No,  only  my  handbag.  I  will  go  with  you  to  the 
stable." 

They  went  along  the  dark,  quiet  street  by  the  light 
of  the  lantern,  and  came  to  the  stables  where  there 
was  a  pair  of  rough-looking  mountain  ponies  har- 
nessed to  a  light  buckboard. 

"You  see, "said  the  stage  driver,  as  they  drove  out 
of  town,  "we've  had  about  three  inches  of  rain,  and  the 
roads  are  lightening  in  some  places.  It's  bad  enough 
by  daylight.  But  I  made  my  trips  yesterday  and  I 
expect  to  make  'em  to-morrow. 

"Hicks,"  said  Hulda,  suddenly,  "who  sent  you  up 
here  on  this  extra  trip  for  me?" 

"Well,  you  see,  ijt  was  that  Mrs.  Aurelia,  Stalker, 
Hawthorne,  Cornman,  whatever  it  is  the  newspapers 
call  her,  but  I  guess  it's  Strong  puts  up  for  it.  The 
Cornmans  ain't  noted  for  prodigality.  Nice  folks, 
though.  You  see  I  took  that  telegram  up  this  morn- 
ing, and  they  looked  for  you  on  the  afternoon  train, 
but  there  was  some  poles  down  and  the  lightening 
wasn't  hitched  up  in  time.  When  I  got  into  Hardup, 
after  dark,  too,  there  was  Mrs.  Cornman  at  the  stables 
ordering  me  to  come  right  back  to  the  midnight  ex- 
press." 

"Why,  Hicks,"  exclaimed  Hulda,  "I  am  so  sorry. 
You  won't  get  any  rest  at  all.  Couldn't  Dave  have 
sent  some  one  in  your  place?" 

He  cracked  his  whip  violently,  and  was  silent  a 
moment. 

"I  guess  you  have  forgotten  old  Hicks,  haven't 
you?" 


282  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Hulda  laughed.      "No,  why?" 

"There  was  half  a  dozen  I  might  have  sent,  but  I 
wasn't  going  to  risk  your  neck  on  these  roads  with  a 
fool  driver,  to  say  nothing  of  my  horses.  I  tell  you 
these  roads  is  a  terror.  There's  a  hole  down  there 
deep  enough  to  drownd  a  horse  in,  and  the  road's 
caved  off  in  lots  of  places  so  that  I  have  to  cut  out 
the  bank  with  the  hub  to  scrape  along." 

The  veteran  stage  driver  splashed  along  through 
the  mud  in  the  darkness,  apparently  in  utter  disregard 
of  life  or  danger,  but  Hulda  knew  she  was  as  safe  as 
if  Mike  Donnovan  were  driving  her  with  the  Markham 
carriage  in  the  park  at  Sacramento. 

The  moon  came  out  clear  from  some  flying  clouds 
and  they  could  see  the  road  better.  Suddenly  he 
drew  the  horses  to  a  standstill  with  a  loud  exclama- 
tion. 

"Cain  and  Abel!  What's  this?  Take  the  lines  a 
minute." 

He  sprang  out  and  went  forward,  Hulda  waited 
in  suspense,  hearing  men's  voices;  then  Hicks  came 
trudging  back,  muttering  and  gesticulating. 

"Here's  a  rum  go,"  he  said  to  the  girl.  "There's 
a  fellow  going  into  the  Little  Giant  Mine  with  a  load 
of  quicksilver.  He's  got  a  horse  and  a  wheel  mired. 
He's  half  drunk — been  tied  up  to  some  dead  fall  in- 
stead of  getting  in  before  dark.  You  better  curl  up 
in  the  robes  and  go  to  sleep,  girl.  It'll  take  me  two 
hours  to  get  him  out  of  the  road." 

Hulda  concluded  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  matter. 
She  crouched  down  in  front  of  the  buggy,  drew  the 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  283 

robes  over  her  and  tried  vainly  to  sleep,  her  head 
resting  on  the  seat,  and  the  west  wind  blowing  gustily 
about  her.  Her  thoughts  were  back  on  that  snowy 
ride  of  just  a  year  ago.  It  was  daylight  when  they 
drove  into  Hardup. 

"Now,"  said  Hicks,  "you  come  to  the  hotel  with 
me  and  get  some  coffee.  Then  I'll  have  Pete,  the 
stable  boy,  take  this  rig  and  drive  you  out  to  the 
Beverly  farm.  I've  got  to  be  getting  ready  to  go 
back." 

Hulda  came  up  the  path  of  the  bare,  wind  blown 
garden  in  front  of  the  Beverly  home  with  rapid  steps. 
She  prayed  that  she  might  not  be  too  late,  if  there 
was  anything  she  could  say  or  do  to  comfort  the  dying 
woman.  A  number  of  people  stood  on  the  porch  in 
front,  as  if  they  had  just  come  out  to  get  the  fresh 
air,  or  possibly  speak  more  freely  with  each  other. 
Hulda  knew  them  all  at  a  distance. 

There  was  Dr.  Rider,  a  silent,  austere  man  who 
had  grown  old  in  the  service  of  the  mountain  people. 
He  wore  his  hat  and  overcoat  and  was  drawing  on 
his  gloves.  The  Rev.  Graceway  stood  at  one  side, 
speaking  with  his  wife.  Several  neighbors  were 
speaking  with  Mrs.  Cornman,  who,  at  a  gesture  from 
some  one,  turned,  and  seeing  Hulda,  came  down  the  • 
steps  to  meet  her  with  outstretched  hands.  All  were 
in  hearing  of  her  words. 

"The  dear  old  lady  has  just  passed  away, "she  said. 
"She  thought  she  would  live  to  see  you,  and  we  all 
thought  so.  But  she  failed  after  midnight,  and  we 
dared  not  wait  for  you  any  longer.  So  while  she 


284  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

was  yet  conscious,  David  and  Cis  were  married,  and 
she—" 

Hulda  stood  back  aghast.  "David  married  to  Cis?" 
she  stammered.  Then  she  threw  up  her  hand  with 
a  cry.  "Oh,  David,  David!"  and  sank,  almost  un- 
conscious, with  Mrs.  Cornman's  arms  about  her. 

All  the  by-standers  were  within  hearing  of  her 
words,  but  none  of  them  knew  that  she  had  been 
overstudying  for  five  months,  and  that  she  was  ex- 
hausted with  her  night's  ride  and  exposure,  nor  could 
they  have  any  comprehension  of  the  reason  why  the 
news  of  the  marriage  was  such  a  shock  to  the  girl's 
mind.  Nor  is  it  any  wonder  that  they  misconstrued 
the  scene  to  Hulda's  disadvantage,  and  misunder- 
stood the  cause  of  her  emotion.  It  seemed  to  some 
of  them  a  sure  and  final  proof  that  Hulda  Hardy  was 
the  deceived  girl,  and  that  David  Strong  should  have 
married  her. 

The  doctor  bent  over  the  drooping  girl. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  "just  loosen  her  coat  and 
collar.  She  will  be  all  right  in  a  moment." 

Then  Hulda  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  a  little, 
extending  her  hand  in  greeting  to  the  minister.  Cis 
appeared,  and  came  to  her  with  encircling  arms.  She 
led  Hulda  straight  to  her  own  little  room  at  the  far 
end  of  the  house.  She  closed  the  door  and  threw 
her  arms  around  her  ever  faithful  friend. 

"Oh,  Hulda,"  she  whispered,  pleadingly,  "you 
won't  tell  David,  will  you?  I  don't  want  him  to 
know.  I  love  him  and  he  loves  me." 

Hulda  sat  down  with  Cis  in  her  arms,  and  silently 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  285 

stroked  her  fair  curling  hair.  That  sweet  confession 
was  pleading  with  her  reason.  Love  could  make 
amends  for  anything,  and  if  she  loved  him,  David 
was  not  wronged. 

"Do  you  love  him  better  than  any  one,  Cis,  and 
will  you  be  true  to  him?" 

"Yes,  Hulda,  yes,  yes.  And  you  will  never,  never 
tell  him,  will  you?  I  will  keep  Nonie." 

Then  in  the  house  of  death  Hulda  kissed  her 
trembling  friend  and  promised  her.  "And  it  is  Christ- 
mas day,"  thought  the  sweet-hearted  girl.  "It  can 
be  my  Christmas  gift,  the  best  I  ever  gave.  For 
Christ's  sake,  and  mother's,  I  will  keep  my  promise." 

And  it  was  only  after  she  had  lain  down  that  night 
in  her  room  in  her  own  house  at  Hardup,  that  the 
after  reflection  came  to  her,  that  this  marriage  had 
relieved  her  of  her  self-assumed  responsibility,  and 
left  her  care  free. 

Mrs.  Cornman,  who  was  so  superior  at  managing, 
brought  young  Mrs.  Strong  and  the  child  to  the 
Hardy  cottage  from  the  funeral,  and  Hulda  and  Cis 
were  together  for  a  week.  David  remained  at  the 
farmhome  to  have  it  thoroughly  aired,  cleansed  and 
repapered  before  Cis  should  return  as  his  bride.  And 
Hulda  and  Cis,  walking  in  the  pine  forest,  or  whis- 
pering in  the  little  bedroom  up-stairs,  planned  more 
fully  the  details  of  the  deception  they  had  undertaken 
to  carry  out.  People  were  to  understand,  and 
David  also,  that  the  child's  mother  died  in  the  city, 
as  had  been  affirmed  before,  and  now  it  could  be 
further  told  that  the  father  was  missing  and  ciici  not 


286  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

reply  to  any  letters.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  heartless 
desertion.  This  fabrication  would  be  sufficient  for 
David,  and  Cis  knew  that  he  would  have  no  objection 
to  her  keeping  the  child  as  her  own.  He  had  said  as 
much. 

"Any  way,"  said  Cis,  who  was  more  world -wise 
than  Hulda,  "the  home  is  mine,  and  the  orchard, 
and  he  dare  not  object."  ' 

This  fabrication  proved  to  be  sufficient  for  David; 
and  as  for  the  town's  people  in  general,  they  had 
their  peculiar  opinion  of  the  whole  affair.  It  was 
supposed  that  Cis  really  believed  the  story  she  told, 
and  no  one  wished  to  try  to  make  her  any  the  wiser. 
They  thought  it  a  bit  of  crude  justice  that  the  child 
had  found  its  father,  even  if  its  mother  had  disowned 
and  discarded  it. 

On  New  Year's  day  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cornman  went 
away  for  the  day;  David  came,  and  it  seemed  quite 
like  old  times  that  Hulda  should  put  on  one  of  her 
old  work  aprons,  and  serve  the  dinner  that  Mrs. 
Cornman  had  left  prepared.  But  it  was  only  seem- 
ing. She  tried  to  make  it  pleasant,  but  she  now  real- 
ized that  the  old  trouble  still  divided  her  from  the 
Hardup  friends,  and  she  would  rather  have  been  in 
her  new  home  in  the  Capital  City.  David  was 
changed  in  every  way  for  the  better.  A  lively  am- 
bition seemed  to  have  taken  the  place  of  his  old  idle 
humor.  He  had  the  most  tender  and  wise  solicita- 
tions for  the  comfort  of  Cis,  and  insisted  upon  her 
remaining  away  another  week  tliat  he  might  the  more 
thoroughly  remove  the  traces  of  sickness  and  death 


CALLED    AWAY    TO    A    SURE    PROOF  287 

from  the  house.  He  told  them  for  the  first  time 
about  his  mine  at  Juniper  Gulch,  and  explained  in 
detail  his  plans  for  working  it  in  the  spring. 

He  had  also  managed  Hulda's  property  in  a  manner 
most  satisfactory.  The  fruit  from  the  orchard  had 
never  been  marketed  before;  but  he  had  sold  it  all 
at  Forest  Grove  this  summer,  and  realized  enough 
from  it  to  pay  for  the  headstones  and  the  improve- 
ments at  the  graveyard  lot.  He  suggested  to  Hulda 
that  he  could  have  more  fruit  trees  set  out  in  the 
spring,  and  enhance  the  value  of  the  property.  But 
when  he  proposed  setting  the  fence  back  and  clearing 
up  some  of  the  pine  forest,  Hulda  turned  away  and 
said  slowly: 

"No,  Dave,  let  my  pines  alone." 

In  the  morning  David  came  for  her  with  the  light 
rig  and  horses,  and  took  her  to  Forest  Grove.  She 
wanted  to  return  at  once,  for  Archie  would  be  going 
back  to  San  Jose.  David  wished  her  to  go  with  him 
to  several  stores  in  Forest  Grove,  to  select  some  car- 
pets for  the  farmhouse,  and  she  was  glad  to  do  this 
for  him.  She  had  come  to  know  a  great  deal  about 
such  things. 

La  Grange,  incidentally  passing,  saw  her  standing 
reflectively  over  a  roll  of  carpet  and  he  passed  and 
repassed  the  open  store  several  times.  He  stepped 
out  of  sight,  however,  when  they  came  onto  the 
street.  He  had  a  curiosity  to  see  her,  she  had  such 
a  stylish  appearance.  But  she  had  refused  to  speak 
to  him  at  her  mother's  funeral;  and  might  do  so  again. 
Besides  the  apple  peddler  had  been  around  with  the 


288  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

revivified  story,  and  this  time  with  rather  convincing 
proof;  proof  of  one  thing  at  least,  that  there  had  been 
some  prior  attachment  between  the  widow  Hardy's 
daughter  and  David  Strong. 

Hulda,  from  the  car  window,  saw  La  Grange  step 
onto  the  platform  with  a  handful  of  letters,  and  pass 
to  the  mail  car.  He  too,  seemed  taller,  and  he  held 
his  handsome  head  high,  in  the  same  proud  and  self 
reliant  manner  as  of  old. 

As  the  train  glided  out  of  the  town, past  the  scattered 
houses  and  the  green  hills  fringed  with  pines,  Hulda 
felt  for  a  moment  as  if  she  had  suddenly  stepped  into 
a  new  world,  and  it  was  all  darkness  around  her. 
Unawares  the  old  pain  that  she  had  hoped  to  deaden 
with  new  thoughts  sprang  up  anew.  If  she  could 
only  have  gotten  away  without  a  glimpse  of  that  fine 
erect  figure,  and  well  set  head;  but  to  see  him  even 
for  a  moment  darkened  all  the  future.  She  closed 
her  eyes  and  sat  as  one  stricken,  but  after  a  time  it 
seemed  as  if  some  one  had  kissed  her  brow,  and  a 
strange  comfort  stole  over  her  heart,  as  a  sweet  vision 
came  to  her  eyes.  It  was  the  tender  lace  of  her  be- 
loved new  mother,  Mrs.  Markham. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  PICTURE. 

For  some  time  after  the  visit  to  Hardup,  Hulda 
seemed  so  unlike  herself  that  Mrs.  Markham  concluded 
that  it  would  be  best,  if  possible,  to  keep  her  away 
from  her  mountain  associates.  She  seemed  utterly 
dispirited  for  a  time,  and  her  spells  of  absent  minded- 
ness  and  sadness  seemed  incompatible  with  the  event 
of  the  death  of  two  aged  people  and  the  very  satis- 
factory marriage  of  a  young  friend. 

Mrs.  Markham  did  not  wish  Hulda  to  forget  her 
mother  and  her  old  home,  but  she  wished  her  to 
rise  to  an  appreciation  of  her  present  advantages. 
One  day  she  said  to  her: 

"I  think  I  will  not  call  you  Hulda  any  more.  I 
shall  call  you  Dacie.  Dacie  is  a  pretty  diminutive  of 
Hulda,  and  it  will  not  make  you  think  of  those  who 
have  always  called  you  Hulda." 

The  girl  smiled  gratefully  to  her.  "Yes,  dear 
Auntie,  call  me  Dacie.  I  shall  like  that  very  much. 
That  was  my  father's  name  for  me." 

Dacie  Hardy,  as  Mrs.  Markham  would  have  her 
called,  graduated  from  the  High  School  that  Spring, 
and  after  Archibald  had  come  home  for  his  summer 

Bavid  of  Juniper  Gulch    19 

389 


2QO  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

vacation,  and  gone  back,  Mrs.  Markham  took  Hulda 
and  went  to  San  Francisco  for  the  remainder  of  the 
year,  where  her  companion  and  proteg£  resumed  her 
studies  in  painting  and  elocution.  And  a  polite  and 
smiling  Frenchman  came  to  their  apartments  several 
times  a  week  to  instruct  them  in  his  native  language. 
Besides,  there  were  the  theatres  and  concerts;  Mrs. 
Markham  let  nothing  good  escape  her  notice,  and 
Hulda  expanded  in  her  new  world,  improved  with 
every  intellectual  contact,  and  became  all  and  more 
than  all  that  Mrs.  Markham  had  wished  for  her. 

They  returned  to  the  Sacramento  home  for  Archie's 
home  coming  again,  and  the  Christmas  dinner  that 
Mrs.  Markham  gave  was  more  elegant  in  appoint- 
ments and  brilliant  in  intellectual  presence  than  any 
she  had  before  given.  Her  protege"  had  become  an 
attraction,  and  for  this  reason,  and  on  account  of  her 
own  personality,  aided  by  her  wealth,  she  could  gather 
around  her  those  of  the  best  society,  or  those  who, 
for  any  reason  were  desirable  or  entertaining. 

The  following  summer,  as  soon  as  Archie's  college 
term  closed,  in  company  with  her  son  and  Hulda, 
she  went  East  on  a  leisurely  pleasure  trip.  They 
visited  Washington  and  New  York,  and  when  Archie 
had  returned  to  his  college  opening,  Mrs.  Markham 
settled  herself  in  Boston,  for  she  was  desirous  that 
her  ward,  as  she  liked  to  call  Hulda,  where  no  one 
knew  the  difference,  should  do  some  painting  in  the 
studio  of  some  artist  of  acknowledged  standing. 

Hulda  liked  Boston  from  the  first,  and  she  thor- 
oughly loved  her  work,  and  soon  felt  as  much  at 


THE    PICTURE  2QI 

home  in  the  gray  old  streets  going  and  returning  from 
her  studio  work,  as  she  once  had  felt  in  the  rain- 
washed  pine  thickets  of  Hardup. 

One  day  Hulda  went  to  the  studio  in  considerable 
perplexity.  Mrs.  Markham  had  conceived  a  new 
idea. 

"Dacie,  you  must  paint  a  California  picture,"  she 
had  said,  and  the  fact  that  Hulda  had  no  California 
sketches  of  her  own,  had  had  no  weight  in  combat- 
ing the  new  idea.  So  Hulda,  desirous  always  of 
pleasing  her,  presented  the  matter  to  the  artist,  in 
whose  fertility  of  invention  she  had  much  confidence. 

Alfred  Hoffner  watched  the  clear-eyed  girl  over  his 
pupils'  easels  for  several  hours,  and  then,  coming  to 
her  side,  he  said: 

"I  have  a  friend  who  has  a  portfolio  of  California 
sketches;  perhaps  he  will  favor  you.  I  will  go  with 
you  to  his  studio  to-morrow,  and  we  will  see  what 
we  can  do." 

Hulda  was  very  happy  over  the  portfolio  of 
sketches,  and  the  two  artists  stood  gravely  over  her, 
listening  to  her  strong  criticism  and  exclamations  of 
delight. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  little  start  and  turned  her  face 
to  the  window  and  the  great  church  spire  outlined 
against  the  sky,  for  her  eyes  at  once  were  full  of 
tears,  and  the  perfectly  gloved  hand  holding  the  pict- 
ure trembled  visibly. 

Alfred  HofTner  came  and  looked  over  her  shoulder. 
It  was  a  study  of  pines  and  madrones,  with  a  red 
bank  and  a  rocky  road  in  the  foreground.  A  rabbit 


2g2  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

drank  from  a  stream  that  ran  across  the  road,  and  a 
rnist,  like  snow,  seemed  to  be  whirling  through  the 
tree  tops. 

"That  would  be  very  difficult  for  you,"  said  Alfred 
Hoffner,  "besides,  it  is  what  I  call  a  melancholy  pict- 
ure— it  is  cold." 

"No  matter,"  said  the  girl  rising  with  the  picture 
still  in  her  hand,  "let  me  try  it.  I  know  of  places  in 
the  mountains  just  like  that." 

Walter  Burleigh,  the  fellow  artist,  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  the  young  lady  had  made  a  good  selection. 

"Particularly,"  he  said  with  a  glance  at  the  girl, 
that  seemed  to  her  like  a  bow,  "if  the  scene  is  familiar 
to  her.  But  the  canvas  is  too  small  for  the  subject. 
She  might  enlarge  it  and  place  in  some  figures.  That 
is  the  way  I  intend  to  produce  it.  I  found  it  one 
snowy  afternoon  about  three  years  ago,  in  the  lower 
Placer  regions.  Two  young  people  came  by  on  horse- 
back as  I  was  coming  away." 

Hulda  turned  to  go;   she  seemed  in  haste. 

"Miss  Hardy,"  said  Alfred  Hoffner,  as  they  were 
going  down  in  the  elevator,  "would  you  like  to  come 
here  and  do  that  picture?" 

"No,  no,"  she  said  hastily,  "I  had  rather  stay  with 
you.  You  are  very  kind  to  get  it  for  me." 

And  Alfred  Hoffner  thought  her  a  singularly  inter- 
esting girl.  This  interest  in  her  deepened  as  she 
worked  under  his  eye  over  the  shadowy  pine  solitude 
with  the  faint  touches  of  snow  on  the  broad  branches 
of  the  madrones. 

Hulda  was  no  longer  in  Boston,  the    petted   com- 


THE    PICTURE  293 

panion  of  a  rich  woman,  surrounded  by  everything 
that  could  contribute  to  her  education  and  refine  her 
tastes,  but  she  was  back  on  the  rocky  red  roads  of  the 
placer  regions,  with  her  proud  lover  by  her  side;  and, 
with  the  old  sweet  warmth,  her  heart  stirred  and 
throbbed  under  its  wrappings  of  velvet  and  fur. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  indisposed,  and  could  not  go  to 
the  studio  to  watch  the  progress  of  the  picture  as 
she  would  have  desired,  and  Hulda  worked  on  as  in 
a  dream. 

She  was  in  a  new,  strange  world.  Was  not  the 
past  divided  from  her  forever?  Who  would  ever 
know  or  dream  that  it  was  the  tragedy  of  her  heart 
that  she  was  outlining  under  the  shadows  of  the  trees? 
A  young  woman  on  a  bay  horse  started  away,  looking 
back  from  the  shadow  of  a  pine,  while  a  young  man 
was  about  to  mount  a  large  gray  horse;  and  an  expres- 
sion of  pain  grew  on  both  faces  as  the  girl's  brush 
hovered  over  them. 

Alfred  Hoffner  stood  behind  her  chair  and  did  not 
break  her  abstraction.  Her  composition  was  truly 
wonderful.  She  had  already  penciled  the  name  on 
the  back  of  the  canvas  "L' adieu." 

The  artist  called  on  Mrs.  Markham  at  her  apart- 
ment in  the  Roslyn.  He  wanted  the  picture  to  re- 
main in  Boston  that  winter  to  be  placed  on  exhibi- 
tion, but  Mrs.  Markham  shook  her  head.  She  was 
about  to  return  to  her  home,  and  she  wanted  her  ward's 
best  work  to  be  hanging  in  her  own  parlor  for  the 
amusement  of  her  own  winter  guests. 

"Outside  of  the  Crocker  gallery,"  she  said,  "it  will 
be  the  best  picture  in  Sacramento." 


2Q4  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Hoffner  packed  the  picture  for  shipping  and  then 
returned  to  the  Roslyn.  When  he  came  to  the 
Pacific  coast  in  the  spring,  he  wished  to  call  and  see 
the  picture,  and  its  fair  author.  But  Mrs.  Markham 
and  her  ward  had  gone. 

When  the  coachman  was  helping  Hulda  unpack 
the  picture  in  the  hall  of  Mrs.  Markham's  mansion  in 
Sacramento,  a  flood  of  misgivings  rushed  in  on  the 
girl's  mind.  She  wished  the  picture  could  have  re- 
mained in  Boston ;  any  way,  perhaps  she  could  pre- 
vail upon  her  friend  to  hang  it  somewhere  up-stairs, 
where  every  one  could  not  see  it.  But  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  was  then  in  the  library  waiting  impatiently  to 
see  the  picture,  so  she  directed  Donovan  to  carry  it 
in,  and  came  behind,  lingeringly. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  leaning  back  in  a  great  easy 
chair,  and  the  picture  was  placed  where  the  full  light 
of  the  bay  window  shone  upon  it.  She  sat  silently 
regarding  it  for  some  time,  while  Hulda  stood  mo- 
tionless by  the  door. 

"Dacie." 

As  Hulda  advanced  she  saw  that  her  dear  friend's 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  there  was  a  perceptible 
quivering  about  the  mouth.  She  stretched  out  her 
hand  mutely,  and  Hulda  came  and  knelt  on  a  has- 
sock at  her  side,  and  the  elderly  woman  drew  the 
girl's  face  to  her  shoulder. 

"Dacie,"  she  said  lovingly,  "why  is  it  that  you  al- 
ways do  everything  to  make  me  love  you  more  and 
more.  In  some  way  you  seem  to  belong  to  my  life. 
I  felt  it  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  at  Hardup.  Now  tell 


THE    PICTURE  295 

me,  dear,  won't  you,  how  you  came  to  get  that  figure 
of  the  young  man,  and  the  face?" 

Hulda  was  weeping.  Mrs.  Markham  was  so  tender 
and  gentle  she  could  not  help  it.  She  loved  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  very  dearly,  but  there  was  a  sacred  picture  on  her 
heart  that  was  dearer.  She  was  silent. 

"Did  it  come  to  you,  Dacie,  like   an   inspiration?" 

"Yes,  Auntie,  it  came  to  me,"  said  the  girl.  It 
was  a  deception,  yet  in  one  way  it  was  the  truth. 

"Then  it  must  have  come  to  you  in  some  myste- 
rious way  out  of  my  mind,  for  a  form  like  that,  and 
a  face  some  like  that,  is  always  before  me.  Dacie, 
the  young  man  you  have  painted  reminds  me  so  much 
of  my  first  husband.  Dear,  it  may  be  wrong,  but 
I  loved  him  more  than  I  did  Archie's  father.  It  may 
be  wrong  but  there  is  a  reason.  Sometime  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it.  But  this  is  a  very,  very  strange 
circumstance.  Perhaps,  Dacie,  if  you  don't  care,  I 
will  hang  the  picture  up-stairs,  for  it  seems  to  me  I 
shouldn't  want  everybody  passing  remarks  about  it." 

Hulda  kissed  her  white  brow.  The  picture  was 
also  sacred  to  her. 

The  two  women  had  been  so  busy  settling  them- 
selves at  home,  and  unpacking  and  arranging  all  the 
souvenirs  of  their  travels,  that  they  had  not  taken 
cognizance  of  the  fact  that  the  legislature  had  opened, 
and  that  the  city  was  waking  up  to  the  usual  excite- 
ments and  festivities  of  the  legislature  winter.  The 
next  morning,  however,  brought  a  formal  and  especial 
invitation  from  Mrs.  Col.  Bruen  that  they  should  at- 
tend a  little  reception  at  her  home  that  night. 


296  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH" 

"I  shall  not  go,"  said  Mrs.  Markham  at  breakfast 
in  her  room  in  the  tower  wing.  "I  am  not  well 
enough.  But  you  must  go,  Dacie,  and  we  will  un- 
pack our  dresses  to-day,  and  find  you  something  to 
wear." 

It  would  have  pleased  Hulda  better  to  have  spent 
the  day  in  some  other  manner;  she  wanted  to  write 
to  Mrs.  Cornman  and  Cis;  it  had  been  several  months 
since  she  had  heard  from  them,  and  she  had  promised 
to  write  them  as  soon  as  she  returned.  But  Mrs. 
Markham  willed  otherwise.  Col.  Bruen  and  his  wife 
had  never  failed  to  be  in  her  parlors  when  invited 
there,  and  if  Mrs.  Bruen  was  to  open  her  house  for 
a  reception,  she  wanted  to  show  all  due  respect. 

"It  is  probably  some  kind  of  a  political  move,"  she 
said  to  Hulda,  while  they  were  at  work  with  the 
dresses.  "Col.  Bruen  always  consolidates  business 
with  pleasure,  and  you  will  probably  meet  some  of 
the  legislature  people  there.  I  want  you  to  wear  my 
diamonds,  Dacie,  I  shall  not  go  out  out  much  this 
winter,  anyway." 

"Auntie,"  resumed  the  girl  after  a  time,  "do  you 
think  I  am  likely  to  meet  Willie  Dudley  there?  I 
shall  not  know  what  to  say  to  him." 

Mrs.  Markham  leaned  back  in  her  rocker  and  tried 
to  speak  sternly. 

"Well,  Dacie,  after  all  the  training  I  have  given 
you,  I  am  sorry  if  you  cannot  conduct  yourself  properly 
under  such  circumstances.  It  was  not  your  fault  that 
the  young  fellow  came  on  to  Boston  to  propose  to 
you,  and  came  back  disappointed.  You  don't  regret 
it,  do  you,  Dacie?" 


THE    PICTURE 

"Oh,  dear,  no!"  cried  the  girl  honestly. 

"Then,  dear,  you  must  meet  him  just  as  if  he  were 
an  old  acquaintance,  and  you  must  show  no  emotion 
or  consciousness  whatever.  Take  pains  to  treat  him 
well  and  put  him  at  his  ease  before  others,  and  be 
sure  and  not  make  any  opening  for  another  overture. 
I  presume  you  will  have  several  rejected  lovers  before 
the  season  is  out,  and  you  must  learn  to  treat  them 
just  as  you  do  other  people." 

Hulda  smiled  quietly 

"But  then,  if  your  own  heart  gets  affected,  you 
must  let  me  know." 

"Which  is  not  likely,"  said  the  girl  laughing.  "I 
wouldn't  marry,  even  to  please  you." 

"And  it  would  never  please  me, "sighed  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  with  a  touch  of  sadness  in  her  manner,  "unless 
—  unless — my  boy — Oh,  Dacic,  let's  talk  about  some- 
thing else." 

Colonel  Bruen  had  taken  one  of  the  largest  houses 
for  rental  in  the  city,  and  had  thrown  open  the  entire 
ground  floor  for  his  first  reception.  The  guests  were 
largely  of  his  own  choosing,  with  his  wife's  active 
co-operation.  They  were  disappointed  not  to  have 
Mrs.  Markham,  for  she  was  a  person  of  much  influ- 
ence, but  the  Markham  carriage  at  the  door,  and  the 
presence  of  the  stylish  and  talented  Miss  Hardy,  was 
a  great  deal. 

Mrs.  Bruen  brought  her  downstairs  from  the 
dressing  room,  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  The 
vrey  person  she  wanted  came  forward. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Dudley,  will  you  take   Miss    Hardy    into 


298  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  front  parlor  and  introduce   her  to   some    of    the 
new  people  you  know?"    Then  she  called  him   back. 

"And,  say.  Introduce  her  as  Miss  Markham. 
Most  of  them  will  never  know  the  difference,  and  it 
will  be  better  for  the  colonel,  you  know." 

Willie  Dudley  did  not  care.  Anything  was  satis- 
factory to  him,  under  the  circumstances.  Miss  Hardy 
was  so  provokingly  cool,  and  agreeable.  He  had 
never  seen  her  so  strikingly  handsome  and  self-pos- 
sessed. She  wore  a  soft-black  lace  dress,  with  her 
white  arms  gleaming  from  the  drapery,  and  five  large 
diamonds  sparkled  at  her  throat  and  in  her  ears. 
She  held  a  large  pink  feathery  fan,  and  a  fragrant 
cluster  of  heliotrope  blossoms  rose  and  fell  on  her 
bosom. 

"I'd  just  like  to  see  some  other  young  fellow  as 
miserable  as  I  am,"  thought  the  unhappy  Dudley. 

So  he  introduced  her  to  a  gray-haired,  abstracted 
senator,  from  Southern  California,  and  went  in 
search  of  his  victim, 

The  victim  was  at  hand  willing  to  be  introduced 
to  a  certain  beautiful  Miss  Dacie  Markham.  Willie 
Dudley  touched  her  arm. 

"I  want  to  present  one  of  the  brliliant  young  as- 
semblymen from  the  mountains." 

She  moved  slightly.  She  was  listening  to  some- 
thing the  senator  was  saying  about  oranges. 

"Miss  Markham,  permit  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Ed- 
ward La  Grange." 

Willie  Dudley  had  performed  his  duty  and  gone. 
A  beautiful  woman  stood  strangely  pale  and  still,  and 


Both  were  dumb— motionless. 


David  of  Juniper  Gulch. 


THE    PICTURE  299 

her  fan  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  tall  young  man,  who 
had  arrested  his  formal  bow,  and  had  thrown  his 
head  back  in  the  old  defiant  way.  Both  were  dumb, 
motionless  and  petrified  from  the  surprise  and  revela- 
tions of  the  moment.  Hulda  recovered  herself  first, 
at  least  partially.  Mrs.  Markham's  instructions  were 
still  fresh  in  her  mind.  "Do  not  show  any  emotion; 
treat  him  just  as  you  do  other  people."  Then  came 
a  wild  beating  at  her  heart,  and  a  trivial  thought  be- 
came uppermost  in  her  mind — her  fan.  How  should 
she  recover  her  fan?  La  Grange  would  never  pick 
it  up  with  that  set,  proud  look  on  his  face. 

But  the  gray-haired  senator  picked  it  up,  placed  it 
in  her  hand,  bowed  and  turned  away.  This  brought 
La  Grange  to  his  senses.  Was  he  not  before  the 
public  eye  every  moment?  His  own  position  de- 
manded everything  that  was  gentlemanly  and  cour- 
teous in  his  outward  appearance.  He  bowed  stiffly, 
and  then  extended  his  hand. 

"It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  meet  you  again, 
especially  under  such  favorable  circumstances,  Miss, 
Ah—" 

"Miss  Hardy,  please,"  she  said,  her  eyes  flashing 
now.  "Mr.  Dudley  had  no  authority  from  me  to 
change  my  name.  But  I  did  not  know  you  were 
here  or  even  in  town." 

She  gave  him  the  tip  of  her  fingers,  and  both  per- 
fectly cool  and  collected  now,  were  silent  for  some 
moments,  as  if,  being  newly  introduced  they  were  at 
loss  for  something  to  say.  When  she  spoke  it  was 
with  the  same  audaciously  charming  manner  that 
Willie  Dudley  had  found  so  oppressive. 


300  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"And  so  you  are  one  of  our  legislators,  Mr.  La 
Grange.  I  am  glad  to  know  of  your  success.  Your 
constituents  are  to  be  congratulated,  Mr.  La  Grange." 

He  also  brought  to  his  aid  his  usual  self-possessed 
personality. 

"You  do  not  read  the  papers  very  closely,  Miss 
Hardy." 

"But  you  mast  excuse  my  ignorance.  We  have 
been  away  six  months,  and  are  just  from  Boston. 
Tell  me  all  about  it,  Mr.  La  Grange." 

"Wouldn't  it  amuse  you,  Miss  Hardy,  to  know  that 
I  ran  against  your  old  friend  Mr.  Cornman,  and  beat 
him  against  the  popular  party?" 

A  burst  of  girlish  laughter  rang  through  the  room, 
and  attracted  the  momentary  attention  cf  several 
groups.  Then  she  flushed  with  something  like  the 
old  red  roses  in  her  cheeks,  and  he  enjoyed  her  con- 
fusion. 

"I  think  I  owe  a  great  many  votes  to  your  friend 
David  Strong."  He  noted  that  she  only  smiled  a 
little  with  mention  of  the  name.  "He  worked  right 
and  left  for  me  in  his  party,  though  I  do  not  see  why 
he  should  be  opposed  to  Cornman,  and  I  don't  know 
why  he  should  work  for  me,  either.  Mr.  Strong  is  a 
man  of  considerable  influence  too.  He  is  making 
money,  doubtless  that  helps  some,  but  Strong  is  a 
good  fellow." 

"Yes,  I  think  he  is  a  good  man,"  she  said  simply. 
"How  is  he  making  money?" 

"He  has  a  very  good  mine  in  some  mysterious 
place,  I  believe,  called  Juniper  Gulch,  We  might 
see  him  down  here  this  winter." 


THE    PICTURE  3<DI 

"I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Dacie,"  Mrs.  Bruen  was  at  her 
elbow,  "but  I  wish  to  introduce  Mr.  La  Grange  to 
some  San  Francisco  people,  if  you  will  excuse  him 
for  a  moment." 

Miss  Hardy  smiled  a  gracious  assent,  La  Grange 
bowed  and  the  ordeal  was  over. 

Shortly  after,  Mrs.  Bruen  was  summoned  to  the 
dressing  room  by  one  of  the  attendants.  Miss  Hardy 
was  putting  on  her  wraps  and  wished  to  be  excused. 
She  seemed  quite  ill,  so  Mrs.  Bruen  thought.  She 
excused  her  with  many  regrets,  and  the  carriage  was 
called.  And  Hulda  went  home,  and,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, knelt  by  Mrs.  Markham's  couch,  and  begged 
that  she  might  be  allowed  to  share  her  winter's  re- 
tirement. 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  "I  shall  get 
a  maid  to  take  care  of  you,  if  you  come  home  sick 
again.  But,  stay  at  home?  Never.  I  can't  allow 
that." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


For  a  week  or  two  after  this  it  seemed  to  Hulda 
that  she  could  go  nowhere,  but  that  La  Grange  was 
there,  the  most  prominent  object  before  her  eyes. 
They  were  introduced  over  and  over  again  by  well 
meaning  friends.  A  perfect  system  of  polite  civilities 
existed  between  them.  Each  saw  the  other's  popu- 
larity, and  each  was  determined  to  lose  no  footing 
by  ignoring  it.  For  the  sake  of  social  pre-eminence 
they  ignored  any  previous  acquaintance,  and  treated 
each  other  publicly  with  marked  deference,  and  they 
walked,  sat  and  talked  together  with  smiles,  speaking 
of  generalities  in  brilliant  bits  of  conversation. 

After  several  meetings  of  this  kind  there  came  to 
Hulda' s  relief  a  feeling  something  like  hatred  and 
scorn,  After  all  he  was  nothing  to  her,  and  she 
was  glad  of  it.  He  was  a  selfish,  ambitious  man;  he 
loved  no  one  but  himself.  This  new  feeling  afforded 
a  certain  kind  of  relief. 

But  her  Hardup  friends,  with  their  reminders  of 
her  simple  but  troubled  girlhood,  seemed  to  be 
gathering  about  her. 

Mrs.  Markham  received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Cornman. 
She  and  her  husband  were  coming  to  the  capital  city 

302 


"THE   CHILD   IS   MINE*'  303 

to  spend  a  week.  Mrs.  Markham  immediately  wrote, 
inviting  them  to  her  house  for  dinner  and  the  even- 
ing, upon  a  certain  day.  She  anticipated  great 
pleasure  in  showing  them  the  improvements  she  had 
made  upon  the  simple  country  school-teacher,  whom 
she  had  taken  to  her  home  two  and  a  half  years  pre- 
vious. 

And  Mrs.  Cornman  appreciated  it  all,  and  was  as 
proud  as  if  she  herself  had  been  the  sole  cause  of  the 
girl's  good  fortune.  She  was  full  of  her  own  life 
and  interests  as  usual.  Mr.  Cornman  had  grown 
younger,  seemingly. 

The  sweet-heart  of  his  boyhood  had  become  the 
guiding  star  of  his  life.  She  brought  forward  the 
best  in  him,  and  stimulated  him  to  his  greatest 
efforts.  He  carried  himself  with  more  ease  and  dig- 
nity, and  his  appearance  was  still  further  improved 
by  a  suit  of  superior  fineness  and  finish,  such  as  he 
had  not  possessed  before  the  rule  of  Aurelia  Corn- 
man. 

They  were  not  at  all  discomfited  by  his  political 
defeat.  He  had  had  to  run  against  a  practicing 
lawyer,  and  the  most  popular  man  in  the  county,  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Cornman.  La  Grange  was  a  rising- 
man,  and  a  thoroughly  good  man,  she  believed.  He 
had  treated  them  in  the  most  manly  way,  Since  the 
election  he  had  secured  the  Forest  Grove  principal- 
ship  for  Mr.  Cornman,  and  promised  him  the  County 
Superintendency  whenever  he  wished  to  run.  Mrs. 
Cornman  honestly  explained  that  the  favor  of  a  man 
like  La  Grange  was  worth  as  much  to  them  as  a 
short  term  in  the  legislature. 


304  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Mrs.  Cornman  wanted  to  talk  with  Hulda  alone, 
and  after  the  dinner  was  over  and  her  husband  was 
giving  the  hostess  his  views  on  the  Chinese  question, 
she  boldly  suggested  to  the  girl  that  she  had  not  seen 
the  conservatory.  Hulda  took  her  out  and  pinned  a 
cluster  of  orchids  to  her  friend's  throat,  with  her 
white,  perfumed  hands.  Mrs.  Cornman  clasped  her 
waist  and  looked  at  her  with  proud  admiration. 

"Do  you  know,  I've  had  a  brilliant  idea  since  I  came 
here,"  she  said. 

"Your  ideas  are  always  so,  Mrs.  Cornman,"  said 
Hulda. 

"But  this  is  especial — very.  Do  you  know,  Hulda, 
you  and  our  Mr.  La  Grange  would  make  a  splendid 
match.  Such  a  union  of  style,  and  talent  and  all." 

The  girl  drew  away  slightly,  but  smiled  composedly. 

"Don't  lower  yourself  to  such  schemes,  Mrs.  Corn- 
man. Your  idea  is  quite  impossible.  I  am  not  a 
marrying  girl.  Don't  you  see  I  am  wedded  to  my 
painting?  Besides,  La  Grange,  it  seems  to  me — it 
seems  to  me,"  she  was  apparently  reflecting,  her  chin 
in  her  hand,  "it  seems  to  me  he  was  already  engaged, 
even  three  years  ago,  to  one  of  those  Bird's  Flat 
girls.  He  ought  to  marry  a  politician's  daughter." 

"But,  Hulda,"  insisted  this  engineering  woman, 
"he  has  some  peculiar  interest  in  you,  I  know.  He 
called  on  me  after  the  election,  and  I  was  speaking 
of  you.  He  said  he  owed  much  of  his  success  to 
some  things  you  had  said  to  him.  He  said  your  can- 
did expression  of  opinion  quite  broke  him  of  a  bad 
habit  he  used  to  have  of  practicing  petty  deceits  to 


1  'THE    CHILD    IS    MINE"  305 

gain  advantage.  He  spoke  as  if  he  would  like  you 
to  know  it,  too.  We  all  think  he  is  absolutely  per- 
fect up  there.  I  know  he  got  his  election  honestly. 
I  remembered  how  you  treated  him  at  your  mother's 
funeral,  too,  and  I  explained  that  away.  I  knew 
you  didn't  mean  to  do  that,  and  I  told  him  about  it, 
to  tell  him  so." 

Hulda  was  bending  over  a  La  France  rose  that  had 
bloomed  in  the  sunny  corner. 

"There  was  more  said  about  you,  too,  and  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  all.  He  asked  me  point  blank  if 
that  scandal  about  you  and  the  baby  was  true." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Mrs.  Cornman  was  also 
seeking  satisfaction  for  her  own  curiosity.  Hulda' s 
face  was  white  as  she  put  her  lips  to  the  pink  rose, 
and  Mrs.  Cornman  was  a  trifle  near-sighted. 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him,  Mrs.  Cornman?" 

"I  told  him  you  had  neither  confessed  or  denied  it. 
Why  didn't  you  deny  it,  Hulda?" 

The  face  was  turned  away  now,  and  there  was  a 
hard,  set  look  about  the  lips.  The  pain  at  her  heart 
was  unendurable,  but  she  was  supreme  over  the  mo- 
ment. 

"Very  well,  Mrs.  Cornman,"  she  said  firmly,  "I 
will  put  you  all  at  rest  on  that  point  now  and  for- 
ever. I  don't  need  the  favor  of  the  mountain  people. 
When  Mr.  La  Grange  asks  you  about  it  again,  you 
tell  him  that  the  child  is  mine,  and  that  I  said  so. 
Come,  Mrs.  Markham  will  need  me." 

She  took  the  arm  of  the  breathless  woman  and  led 
her  swiftly  back  to  the  front  parlor.  Here  she  as- 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    20 


306  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

tonished  Mrs.  Markham  by  sitting  down  to  the  piano 
and  playing  several  noisy  marches,  and  then  direct- 
ing her  entire  conversation,  spiced  with  brilliant  and 
witty  remarks,  to  the  somewhat  bewildered  husband 
of  Mrs.  Cornman. 

When  the  guests  had  gone  Hulda  helped  Mrs. 
Markham  to  her  bed  with  her  usual  gentle  offices, 
and  then,  barely  across  the  threshold  of  her  own 
room,  she  sunk  into  the  soft  curly  rug,  clutching  the 
wool  spasmodically,  and  smothering  the  moans  on 
her  lips.  There  was  but  one  thought  and  it  ran  over 
and  over  in  her  brain. 

"He  doubts  my  honor,  he  thinks  so;  he  thinks  I 
am  unworthy!  My  God,  .my  God,  help  me  now!" 

Long  after  midnight  she  crept  to  her  bed  to  seek 
the  sleep  she  knew  she  must  have.  As  far  as  she 
was  able  to  judge  she  thought  that  Mrs.  Cornman 
would  communicate  her  newly  acquired  information 
to  her  husband,  who  would  probably  find  some  way 
of  informing  La  Grange.  The  girl  had  been  driven 
into  a  corner  by  a  weapon  that  probed  deeply,  arid 
in  a  moment  of  anger  she  had  thrown  out  a  defiant 
falsehood  to  protect  her  at  least  form  further  attacks. 

"It  is  all  over  now, "she  reflected,  when  she  awoke 

'in  the  morning.     "If  he   can    think    evil    of    me,  he 

might  as  well  believe  it.      I  am  glad  this  is  the  end." 

For  several  days  thereafter  Hulda  kept  to  her 
studio.  Mrs.  Markham  had  her  easiest  chair  taken 
up  that  she  might  watch  the  work  of  the  brush. 

"I  want  to  go  to  Italy,"  said  Hulda,  patting  the 
color  on  the  cheek  of  a  girl-head  study. 


"THE    CHILD    IS    MINE"  307 

"Well,  you  shall  go  to  Italy,  Dacie,  when  Archie 
comes  out,"  said  Mrs.  Markham. 

The  door  opened.  It  was  Satsuma,  the  soft-footed 
Jap-waiter,  recently  employed  for  the  winter. 

"Ther's  a  man  in  the  parlor  wants  to  see  Miss 
Hardy." 

"Oh,  Satsuma!"  cried  Mrs.  Markham,  "you  are  all 
wrong  again.  Say  'A  gentleman  to  see  Miss  Hardy. '" 

"Is  there  a  card?"  said  Hulda.  Satsuma  shook  his 
head,  smiling  blandly. 

Miss  Hardy  went  down  wonderingly.  No  wonder 
Satsuma  was  mystified.  A  large  man  in  a  short  coat, 
his  hat  in  his  lap,  sat  upright  in  the  great  crimson 
silk  chair,  staring  at  a  statuette  in  the  corner.  Hulda 
advanced  to  the  center  of  the  room.  All  her  girl- 
hood rushed  back  upon  her,  the  bright  days  of  dime 
socials,  and  writing-schools.  This  man  had  been  her 
brother  and  friend.  Now  all  the  world  was  hollow. 
She  held  out  both  hands. 

"Oh,  David,  David.      I  wanted  to  see  you." 

David  came  and  kissed  her,  with  his  arm  around 
her.  She  was  his  sister  and  had  always  been. 

"What  a  beautiful  lady  you  have  grown  to  be! 
You're  stunning,  Hulda.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 
Don't  cry,  Hulda,  there  .don't,  don't." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,  Dave.  But  you  came  upon  me 
so  suddenly.  You  made  me  think  of  mother,  and— 
everything.  I'm  all  right  now.  Come,  sit  down 
and  tell  me  all  the  news." 

She  pressed  him  into  the  silk  •  chair,  and  brought 
the  light  extra  piano  stool  close  to  the  arm,  for  her- 
self. 


308  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Let  me  take  your  hat,  David.  Dear  me,  you 
look  just  like  your  good  old  self.  Now  tell  me  all 
about  Cis.  How  is  she  any  way?  Dear  little  Cis,  I 
suppose  she's  perfectly  happy." 

David  smiled.  He  was  quite  susceptible  to  the 
pretty  compliments  of  an  accomplished  woman. 

"She's  what  I  came  to  see  you  about,  Hulda. 
She's  not  very  well.  She  worries  too  much,  about 
nothing,  too." 

"Worries.  I  heard  you  were  making  money, 
David." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  ain't  that.  You  see,  she's,  she's, 
well,  low  spirited  like." 

"Oh,  what's  the  cause  of  that?     Is  she  well?" 

"Oh,  yes,  that  is,  pretty  well.  But  she's,  she's 
kind  of  bothered  and  anxious.  Er — er — " 

"Anxious?      How,  Dave?" 

David  fidgeted  in  his  seat,  and  his  face  took  on 
several  deeper  shades  of  perplexity. 

"Er — er — it's  anxiety  about  herself  About  her 
future  health,  you  know.  Poor  girl,  I'm  all  worried 
out  too.  Hulda,  do  many  women  die,  die — when — 
My  poor  little  girl  wife!" 

The  young  husband's  head  was  bent  in  his  hands. 

"No,  Dave,  she  will  not  die." 

Hulda  spoke  suddenly  and  firmly,  and  rose  and 
went  away  to  the  window.  She  was  gone  so  long  that 
David  moved  uneasily.  When  she  returned  to  him 
her  face  had  the  same  look,  as  when  she  took  Cis  to 
her  heart  after  her  mother's  death,  and  she  had 
crowded  all  her  heart  and  life  down,  and  had  taken 
up  the  old  burden  of  her  life.  Cis  needed  her  again, 


"THE    CHILD    IS    MINE"  309 

and  for  David's  sake,  and  for  her  sainted  mother's 
sake,  she  would  be  her  helper. 

She  sat  down  again  by  David. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  to  do,  Dave.  You  bring  her 
down  here  where  you  can  get  some  good  doctor  to 
bring  her  through." 

"Yes,"  said  David,  "that's  just  what  she  wants  to 
do.  But  I  didn't  know.  How  had  we  better  fix  up 
here?" 

Hulda  walked  the  floor  and  thought. 

"The  best  way  to  do,"  she  said,  "will  be  to  get  a 
little  furnished  house  in  a  quiet  place.  I  know  of  one 
to  rent  down  somewhere  about^  8th  and  G.  Streets. 
Get  her  down  there,  Dave,  and  I  will  come  and  cheer 
her  up." 

David  looked  relieved. 

"I'll  shut  up  the  farmhouse  and  bring  her  right 
down,"  he  said. 

He  then  went  away  and  Hulda  went  back  to  her 
work  on  the  girl's  head  with  the  steadier  nerve  that 
resolution  affords. 

With  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Cornman,  whom  she 
admired,  Mrs.  Markham  took  not  the  slightest  inter- 
est in  her  companion's  country  friends.  When  told 
that  it  was  David  Strong  who  had  called,  she  said 
wonderingly: 

"Oh,  your  agent  of  your  property.  Well,  Dacie, 
we  can  get  on  very  nicely  without  any  of  those  low 
country  people  who  did  not  appreciate  you." 

And  Hulda  knew  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
troubled  by  them,  and  that  her  visits  to  Cis  must  be 
few  and  short. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ASSEMLY  BILL  NO.    334. 

It  was  not  at  all  surprising  that  Max  Royse  should 
be  the  representative  in  the  Assembly  that  winter 
from  a  district  in  San  Francisco,  not  distinguished 
at  any  time  by  the  high  moral  tone  of  its  political 
managers.  Royse  was  brought  forward  as  part  of  a 
system,  and  was  capable  of  doing  the  work  he  was 
expected  to  do.  Financially  he  had  given  generous 
assistance  to  the  campaign,  and  the  campaign  had 
placed  him  somewhat  ahead  in  his  ambitious  schemes. 
He  was  aiming  high  now,  and  aiming  well,  and  as  far 
as  outward  appearances  went  he  was  just  as  desirable 
a  candidate  for  higher  political  honors,  as  any  man 
before  the  public. 

Mrs.  Ellis  also  had  risen  grandly  to  the  demands 
of  the  time.  The  prosperity  and  advancement  of 
Royse  was  also  her  prosperity  and  advancement, 
and  she  was  not  lacking  in  any  of  the  arts,  graces 
and  accomplishments  that  she  might  need  as  the  lady 
friend  of  a  public  and  popular  man.  She  no  longer 
lived  at  the  lodging  house;  her  private  rooms  were 
far  out  on  Pine  Street,  with  a  sunny  bay  window, 
and  a  bit  of  a  flower  garden  to  walk  in.  She  was 
thoroughly  genteel  in  her  habits.  She  sometimes 
went  to  church  on  Sunday,  where  she  sat  in  a  pew 

310 


ASSEMBLY    BILL    NO.    334  311 

with  Royse's  children,  with  their  nurse  and  the  gov- 
erness. 

In  fact  Royse  had  nearly  decided  to  marry  her. 
She  had  come  up  to  the  Capital  City  and  was  oc- 
cupying for  a  time,  a  suite  of  rooms  at  a  popular  hotel 
on  K.  Street.  Royse  was  somewhat  anxious  to  see 
how  she  would  appear  in  such  a  place.  If  he  had 
had  any  doubts  as  to  her  capabilities  they  were 
speedily  dispelled.  She  was  a  queen  wherever  she 
appeared.  She  was  vastly  superior  in  grace,  style, 
presence  and  tact  to  any  of  the  women  he  found  a 
chance  to  introduce  her  to  in  the  hotel  parlors,  or  in 
the  Capitol  building.  He  found  some  lobbying  for 
her  to  do,  and  she  did  it  far  better  than  he  had 
expected.  There  was  only  one  thing  troubling  Royse 
at  this  time;  he  wished  that  he  was  sure  old  Ellis 
was  really  dead.  Not  that  he  cared,  personally,  but 
his  appearance  alive  after  the  marriage,  might  overdo 
his  capacity  for  lying,  and  compromise  his  political 
success.  The  captain  of  the  whaler  had  sworn  to 
him  that  old  Ellis  had  been  killed  in  a  drunken  row 
at  Sitka,  but  he  had  sometimes  thought  that  the 
captain's  word  was  no  better  than  his  own  at  certain 
times.  But  Mrs.  Ellis  believed  the  captain's  story; 
she  was  glad  to  believe  it;  not  but  what  she  had  loved 
John  Ellis  in  his  sober  days,  but  his  drinking  days 
had  ruined  him  and  herself  to,  and  now  she  saw  the 
door  of  society  open  to  her  as  the  wife  of  the  thor- 
oughly ambitious  and  progressive  Royse. 

Royse,  any  way,  was  crippled   without    her.      He 
needed  her  at  every  turn,  and  when  he  had  summoned 


312  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

her  to  the  Capital,  he  was  in  her  parlor  as  often  as 
he  could  and  dared  be,  for  her  counsel  and  help. 

The  afternoon  was  rainy  and  cold.  It  was  just 
before  dinner  at  the  popular  and  crowded  hotel,  and 
Mrs.  Ellis  stood  before  the  long  glass  in  her  little 
parlor  surveying  the  details  of  her  new  silk  costume. 
She  was  a  mass  of  shining  jet.  Royse  was  tipping 
back  in  a  chair  before  her  fire,  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets, his  hair  in  a  tumble,  and  his  mind  in  a  state  of 
perplexity. 

"Minerva,"  he  cried,  "come  away  from  that  glass. 
I  never  saw  you  look  better.  See  here,"  he  continued 
in  a  lower  tone,  as  she  came  forward,  "I  must  be 
sure  of  one  more  vote  on  that  Assembly  Bill  No.  334, 
or  it  won't  go  through.  I'll  be  blessed  if  I  haven't 
tried  every  dodge  in  the  world  on  that  La  Grange  to 
find  out  how  he's  going  to  vote,  but  I  can't  open  his 
mouth." 

"Have  you  tried  the  good  old  way,  Max?" 

"No,  I'm  afraid  to." 

"Afraid!"    he  cried  in  astonishment. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Minerva.  He's 
a  new  man.  These  new  ones  are  finicky  sometimes. 
If  I  should  be  barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  he  might 
do  me  a  great  deal  of  harm." 

"Why  don't  you  hire  some  one  to  do  your  dirty 
work,  Max?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  hired  you  once,  and  got  fooled." 

They  both  laughed.  Any  allusion  to  that  old  affair 
was  considered  humorous. 

"Come  here  to  the  window,  Max,  I  want  to  show 
you  something." 


ASSEMBLY    BILL    NO.     334  313 

Standing  back  of  her,  he  looked  where  she  pointed. 

"Do  you  see  that  fellow  standing  there  leaning 
against  that  lamp-post?  Looks  as  if  he  might  be 
fresh  from  the  country,  or  some  far  away  rustic  region. 
I  see  him  hanging  around  that  corner  every  day.  He 
acts  perfectly  stupid;  I  don't  think  he  knows  any- 
thing at  all.  Now  you  smuggle  him  up  here  after 
dinner  and  I'll  sit  in  the  bedroom  while  you  talk  to 
him.  I  believe  you  could  hire  him  for  a  cent.  And 
I'll  tell  you,  Max,  if  you  can  buy  La  Grange's  vote, 
you'd  better  do  it,  for  we're  behind,  if  that  Bill  don't 
go  through." 

Late  that  evening  La  Grange  sat  writing  in  his 
room  on  the  first  floor  of  a  tasteful  residence  on  M. 
Street.  He  had  taken  board  and  lodging  where  he 
would  be  the  least  subject  to  interruption.  He  did 
his  own  writing  and  most  of  that  at  night,  when 
some  social  call  of  paramount  importance  did  not 
call  him  away. 

He  was  working  beyond  his  strength,  he  knew,  but 
work  was  his  pleasure,  and  he  knew  he  could  get 
some  rest  as  soon  as  he  would  return  to  Forest  Grove, 
his  office  and  his  cases  now  on  hand.  A  stack  of 
written  letters  lay  on  his  desk,  and  he  was  about  to 
begin  another,  when  the  ringing  of  the  door-bell  dis- 
turbed him.  He  was  sorry  that  his  landlady  should 
be  disturbed  so  late,  and  he  hoped  it  was  not  on  his 
account.  Then  he  heard  his  name  and  a  light  tap 
on  his  door. 

"Come  right  in." 

The  door  opened  and  closed,  and   he   glanced    up. 


314  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

He  was  used  to  receiving  messages  from  his  colleagues 
that  way.  A  strange  looking  man,  muffled  to  his 
ears,  and  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  stood  there  in  awk- 
ward silence. 

"Well,"  said  La  Grange,  with  some  impatience, 
"what  is  it  now?" 

Still  muffled  and  in  a  constrained  voice  the  man 
said: 

"What'll  you  take  to  vote  for  Assembly  Bill  No. 
334,  and  send  back  word  by  me?" 

La  Grange  looked  at  him  contemptuously,  and 
turning  to  his  desk  took  up  his  pen. 

"Well,  my  good  fellow,  you  go  back  and  tell  the 
man  that  sent  you  here,  that  it's  none  of  his  business." 

He  began  writing.  Still  the  stranger  waited;  then 
La  Grange  looked  up. 

"You'd  better  go,  young  man.  This  thing  won't 
work  either  as  a  catch  or  a  bribe/'  He  rose  and 
opened  the  door.  Then  with  a  chuckling  laugh  the 
coat  was  pulled  down  and  the  hat  pushed  up.  La 
Grange  shut  the  door  and  sat  down  breathless.  The 
man  before  him  was  none  other  that  Buck  Dorms. 

"Why,  Buck,  what  does  this  mean?  What  are 
you  in  a  low  business  like  this  for?"  cried  the  aston- 
ished Assemblyman. 

Buck  sat  down,  unusually  self-possessed. 

"Don't  know  that  I  am  in  any  low  business.  A 
fellow  called  me  up  to  his  room  and  gave  me  a 
twenty  to  come  and  do  it,  and  I  allowed  it  was  no 
harm;  I  got  the  twenty  and  you  do  as  you  please. 
Besides  I  thought  it  was  a  good  scheme  to  get  to  see 
you." 


ASSEMBLY    BILL    NO.     334  315 

La  Grange  laughed  and  came  and  shook  his  hand 
warmly. 

"Well,  Buck,  if  it's  a  purely  social  visit,  I  suppose 
it's  all  right.  Well,  well,  really  Dorms,  I'm  glad  to 
see  you.  You  carry  me  back  to  'Auld  lang  syne' 
and  all  that.  Buck,  it's  been  an  age  since  I  saw 
you." 

The  visitor  rose  awkwardly  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  hain't  got  no  time  to  talk, 
anyhow. " 

La  Grange  pressed  him  down,    and  took  his    hat. 

"Time?  Buck,  I've  got  oceans  of  time  to  talk  to 
an  old  friend  like  you.  Well,  I  declare!  It  makes 
me  young  again  to  see  you.  That  was  a  jolly  picnic 
we  had  on  Cherry  Creek,  wasn't  it?  Oh,  by  the 
way,  that  was  the  time  you  eloped  with  your  girl. 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  That  was  great,  Buck!  You're  a 
genius." 

Buck  warmed  before  such  geniality,  and  smiled  all 
over  his  face. 

"Well,  I  guess  I  can't  say  the  same   for  you,  sir." 

"Why,  Mr,  Dorms?" 

"Well,  I  got  my  girl,  and  you  lost  yours." 

It  was  Buck's  turn  to  laugh  loudly. 

"It  looks  like  it,  Buck.  You  have  the  joke  on  me 
fair  and  square." 

La  Grange  did  not  wish  to  continue  that  subject, 
so  he  said: 

"You  haven't  told  me  how  your  wife  is,  and  how 
you're  getting  on  these  days.  How  are  the  little 
ones?  I  suppose  there  are  some  babies  by  this  time." 


3l6  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Buck,  "that's  just  what's  the  mat- 
ter. We've  had  rather  hard  luck.  Our  little  boy's 
got  a  bad  leg,  sir,  and  we're  down  here  having  him 
doctored." 

"Why,  indeed,"  said  La  Grange,  sympathetically. 
"What  a  pity!  Is  he  getting  better?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  You  see  the  ankle's  crooked, 
and  the  doctor  has  been  having  clamps  on  it.  Now 
he  thinks  he  will  have  to  do  some  surgical  operation 
on  it.  We've  got  a  little  house  down  on  5th  and  Q. 
Streets,  and  it's  rather  hard  lines,  with  doctor  bills 
and  everything.'7 

La  Grange  thrust  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

"It  is  indeed!  Now,  see  here,  Buck.  Don't  you 
take  any  more  dirty  money  from  those  legislature 
sharps.  When  you  want  money,  come  to  me.  I 
guess  we're  having  rain  enough  to  furnish  sheep  feed. 
I  can  trust  you  on  that." 

He  took  out  a  twenty  dollar  piece.  Buck  looked 
grateful. 

"Wait  till  that  fellow's  shiner  is  gone.  I  earned  it 
square  enough.  I  done  what  he  told  me  to,  and  I 
ain't  give  him  away  either." 

"I  don't  want  you  to,"  answered  the  young  Assem- 
blyman. 

"Besides,"  continued  Buck,  "I'm  getting  a  job  now 
an'  then  helping  to  load,  down  on  the  river  front. 
But  when  the  doctor  bill  comes  in,  I'll  call  on  you." 

"All  right,  do,"  said  La  Grange.  "What?  going 
already?  Well,  good-night,  Buck,  and  come  and  see 
me  whenever  you  need  me." 


ASSEMBLY    BILL    NO.     334  317 

Buck  went  out  and  La  Grange  sat  down  and  took 
his  pen.  It  might  have  been  the  picnic  days,  it  might 
have  been  Assembly  Bill  No.  334,  but  he  held  the 
pen  motionless,  and  for  some  time  was  lost  in  silent 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  ASSEMBLY  ROOM. 

In  due  time,  Hulda  had  received  a  note  from  Cis, 
and  had  walked  down  to  see  her,  early  one  morning, 
to  the  house  that  she  had  described  to  David.  It 
was  a  plain  little  house,  neatly  furnished,  but  Cis  had 
a  good  girl  in  the  kitchen,  and,  though  not  very  well, 
she  was  contented  and  happy.  Hulda  soon  found 
from  her  confidences,  that  Cis  had  mostly  been 
troubling  herself,  that  she  might  be  closer  to  the 
friend  of  her  girlhood.  She  had  premonitions  of 
coming  evil,  and  her  slight  knowledge  of  physical 
truths  awoke  certain  fears,  that  the  early  tragedy  of 
her  life  might  be  disclosed.  She  wanted  to  be  with 
strangers  in  a  strange  place,  and  especially  near 
Hulda. 

Hulda,  in  a  fur-trimmed  cloak,  with  soft  black 
feathers  drooping  over  her  large  hat,  sat  looking  com- 
posedly at  the  unfortunate  woman,  as  these  confi- 
dences were  slowly  disclosed.  Then  Cis  drew  her 
friend's  face  down  to  her  couch  and  kissed  her,  with 
the  little  white  hands  clinging  to  her  pleadingly  and 
refusing  to  be  denied  comfort.  Hulda  then  renewed 
her  promise,  that  never,  through  her,  should  the 

secret  be  divulged, 

318 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  319 

She  then  learned  a  bit  of  news,  that  at  first  startled 
her,  not  from  the  fact  itself,  but  from  the  circum- 
stance, that  so  many  of  her  mountain  home  mem- 
ories were  clustering  around  her.  She  remembered 
the  gratitude  and  affection  of  Millie,  and  was  grieved 
to  know  of  her  affliction. 

Q.  and  5th  Street  was  a  part  of  the  city  where 
Donovan  never  took  them  when  out  driving,  and  she 
knew  it  to  be  a  low  and  unhealthful  part  of  town. 

That  afternoon  when  she  took  the  carriage  to  re- 
turn a  few  society  calls  in  which  Mrs.  Markham  was 
not  interested,  she  requested  Donovan  to  find  the 
house  for  her.  In  the  two  years  and  a  half  that  had 
elapsed  since  their  last  meeting,  Millie  had  lost  her 
feeling  of  familiar  friendship  for  her  old  teacher,  and 
met  her  with  awkward  constraint.  The  poorly  fur- 
nished house  that  they  had  rented  was  small,  and 
Millie  had  only  her  kitchen  in  which  to  receive  her 
caller.  There  were  but  two  bedrooms;  and  one  was 
rented,  Millie  explained,  to  an  old  man.  The  lame 
boy,  the  oldest,  lay  in  a  cradle,  and  a  ruddy  baby 
boy  of  about  nine  months  rolled  on  the  floor. 

When  Hulda  bent  over  the  cradle  and  saw  the  heavy 
clamps  on  the  child's  leg,  its  white  face  and  great, 
dark,  hollow  eyes,  her  heart  was  moved  with  pity  for 
Millie  and  her  troubles.  She  sat  down  in  the  dingy 
little  kitchen,  and  tried  to  cheer  and  comfort  the  young 
mother. 

Millie  looked  at  her  rich  cloak,  handsome  feathered 
hat,  fine  cloth  dress  and  perfect  gloves,  and  tried  to 
recognize  her  old  teacher  in  this  elegant  person.  But 


320  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

she  was  proud,  that  she  should  have  come  to  the 
humble  home,  and  her  cheeks  glowed  with  excite- 
ment and  pleasure. 

While  they  were  talking  a  door  opened,  and  a  gray, 
but  rugged  looking  man,  came  in  and  sat  down  by 
the  fire.  He  had  a  hardened,  yet  not  unkindly  ex- 
pression, and  after  he  had  stirred  the  fire  a  little,  he 
seemed  lost  in  his  own  reflections. 

Millie  followed  Hulda  to  the  gate. 

"He's  my  boarder,"  she  said.  "He  works  on  the 
river  front  where  Buck  works.  He  likes  Buck  and 
wanted  to  come  here,  so  we  let  him.  It  helps  us  and 
he's  awful  good  to  little  Willie." 

Hulda  was  glad  that  she.  had  called,  and  spoke  of 
it  to  Mrs.  Markham  in  a  general  way,  but  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  did  not  seem  to  be  particularly  interested  in  any 
of  the  mountain  people,  especially  those  who  might 
have  some  demands  on  her  companion's  time  and  at- 
tention. 

Shortly  after,  the  Bruens  called.  The  colonel 
never  so  sure  that  his  various  schemes  would  result 
in  prosperity  to  himself;  and  Mrs.  Bruen,  happy  in 
her  policy,  and  confident  that  she  was  a  necessity  in 
the  little  social  world,  that  she  had  evolved  f^om  the 
heterogeneous  elements  of  a  legislature  winter.  To- 
night she  had  a  particularly  bright  idea  on  her  mind. 
She  wanted  to  take  Mrs.  Markham  to  the  legislature 
with  her  the  next  day.  The  purport  of  the  scheme, 
which  would  evolve  naturally,  was  that  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  should  take  her  in  her  carnage,  and  that  the 
colonel  should  meet  and  introduce  them  at  the  leg- 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  321 

islature  to  certain  persons  he  wished  to  affect  by  the 
solidity  of  his  social  standing. 

Mrs;  Markham  smiled  and  looked  at  Hulda.  She 
knew  that  there  was  an  ax  to  grind  somewhere,  but 
she  was  feeling  particularly  well,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  she  should  not  look  into  the  legislature 
halls  at  least  once  during  the  winter,  so  she  con- 
sented to  go,  and  told  Mrs.  Bruen  she  would  send  the 
carriage  for  her. 

The  Bruens  made  preliminary  movements  to  go. 
Oh,  there  was  one  thing  more !  Mrs.  Colonel  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  two  very  delightful  people 
from  San  Francisco,  an  Assemblyman  and  the  lady 
he  expected  shortly  to  marry.  She  would  be  so 
pleased  to  bring  them  to  Mrs.  Markham 's  next  "At 
home"  evening.  Mrs.  Markham,  standing  on  a  large 
fluffy  rug  in  the  hall,  leaning  on  Hulda' s  arm,  thought 
there  would  be  no  objections.  Who  were  they? 

Oh,  it  was  Hon.  Mr.  Royse  and  Mrs.  Ellis,  both 
stopping  at  the  Imperial  Hotel,  and  Mrs.  Ellis  was 
such  a  lovely  and  agreeable  woman. 

Mrs.  Markham  started  as  if  in  pain ;  it  was  a  con- 
vulsive pressure  on  her  arm,  and  a  strange  look  on 
Dacie's  face.  She  gave  her  hand  in  parting  to  Mrs. 
Bruen,  and  begged  to  defer  the  matter  for  considera- 
tion. She  had  thought  some  of  discontinuing  her 
"At  home"  evenings,  on  account  of  her  health. 

The  door  was  closed. 

"What  is  it,  Dacie?" 

"I  have  heard  of  those  people,  Auntie  dear;  I  don't 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    zi 


322  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

think  they  are  the   kind  you    want.     They    say    she 
keeps  a  lodging  house." 

"That  settles  it,  Dacie.  I  will  tell  Mrs.  Bruen  to- 
morrow. Dear  me,  I  would  have  a  perfect  mob  here 
if  I  were  not  careful." 

Hulda  ran  up  to  her  room,  chilled  with  horror. 
But  she  had  all  night  to  think  it  over,  and  she  re- 
solved that  if  she  ever  chanced  to  meet  those  two 
polluted  people,  that  she  would  be  more  than  a  match 
to  them  in  self-controlled  contempt. 

Mrs.  Bruen,  the  next  morning,  was  fearful  that 
after  all  she  might  not  get  Mrs.  Markham  to  alight 
from  her  carriage.  She  seemed  to  dread  any  sort  of 
contact  with  a  crowd,  and  her  first  view  of  the  Cap- 
itol steps  caused  her  to  shrink  back  in  her  seat.  Ap- 
parently a  delegation  of  hack  drivers,  boys,  and 
heterogeneous  loungers  had  been  sent  out  to  receive 
her.  But  Colonel  Bruen  came  running  down  the 
steps,  so  pleased  that  they  had  come,  and  so  affable 
and  cheerful,  that  Mrs.  Markham  stepped  from  the 
carriage,  and  leaning  on  the  colonel's  arm,  with  Hulda 
close  to  her  on  the  other  side,  they  passed  into  the 
corridor  and  slowly  climbed  the  stairs.  Hulda  was 
as  nervous  and  ill  at  ease  as  her  beloved  friend,  but 
she  bravely  controlled  herself  and  watched  Mrs. 
Markham  with  solicitude  and  care. 

Mrs.  Bruen's  plans  matured  well.  They  chanced 
to  meet  several  of  the  colonel's  friends  in  the  upper 
halls,  and  the  introductions  they  so  desired  followed, 
naturally.  One  of  these  gentlemen  was  an  Assembly- 
man, and  he  was  more  than  pleased  to  interest  him- 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  323 

self  directly  in  finding  choice  seats  for  the  fair  vis- 
itors; so  they  presently  found  themselves  in  three 
soft  blue  plush  seats  against  the  wall,  at  the  right  of 
the  Speaker's  desk,  and  almost  facing  the  entire  As- 
sembly. 

The  house  was  full  at  that  moment,  amusing  itself 
while  the  Clerk  was  droning  through  the  reading  of 
a  Bill,  of  which,  however,  the  three  visitors  soon  dis- 
covered, they  could  not  understand  word  or  sen- 
tence. 

Hulda  rapidly  scanned  the  large  and  disorderly 
body  of  men.  She  soon  caught  sight  of  La  Grange 
far  across  the  room  at  the  left  of  the  desk,  but  he 
was  not  amusing  himself  by  talking,  eating  fruit^  or 
sending  messages  by  pages.  He  was  looking  over 
several  letters  in  a  dignified  way,  giving  some  atten- 
tion to  the  progress  of  the  reading  of  the  Bill. 

Hulda  shrank  back  into  the  folds  of  a  great  drapery 
that  concealed  her  face  in  its  shadow,  and  began 
searching  for  those  two  that  she  dreaded  to  see,  and 
that  she  dared  not  come  upon  unawares  and  un- 
guarded. 

Running  her  eyes  over  the  crowded  gallery,  she 
saw  an  elegant  figure  appear  and  take  a  front  seat 
that  a  young  man  had  evidently  been  holding  for 
some  one.  A  fluffy  fur  was  thrown  back,  long 
silky  veil  was  removed,  and  Hulda  looked  through 
her  opera  glasses,  and  recognized  the  face  of  Mrs. 
Ellis,  its  pink  and  white  beauty  not  at  all  damaged  by 
the  lapse  of  a  few  years.  By  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Ellis'  glances,  she  knew  where  Assemblyman  Max 


324  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Royse  was  seated,  or  ought  to  be.  Presently  he  came 
from  another  part  of  the  room  and  sat  down.  He 
was  seemingly  tall,  better  tailored  and  barbered  than 
before,  and  his  hair  a  little  gray,  somewhat  refined  his 
appearance.  He  had  a  manner  of  having  a  great 
weight  of  affairs  on  his  mind.  Hulda  shuddered  as 
she  lay  far  back  in  her  seat  under  her  furs,  and 
thought  of  unhappy  Cis,  and  her  sad  secret.  Then 
she  thought  of  David  so  noble  and  trusting. 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  La  Grange  and  prayed  that 
his  wife,  whoever  she  might  be,  would  be  pure  and 
innocent  and  heart-happy. 

Mrs.  Bruen  was  whispering  to  Mrs.  Markham  and 
kepi  her  entertained,  and  Hulda  was  glad.  The 
dreary  bill  came  to  an  end,  and  after  a  time  another 
dreary  bill  began  to  be  unintelligibly  declaimed. 
There  was  a  movement  in  the  gallery,  and  the  people 
seemed  to  be  passing  out.  The  girl  rested  her  eyes 
on  the  handsome,  conspicuous  figure  erf  Mrs.  Ellis; 
she  was  looking  down  and  smiling.  Then  Hulda's 
eyes  were  attracted  by  a  man  who  stood  nearly  be- 
hind the  absorbed  woman.  There  was  an  earnest- 
ness in  his  expression  and  attitude,  that  caught  her 
attention.  In  a  moment  she  remembered  that  she 
had  seen  him  before.  It  was  Millie's  boarder.  He 
was  somewhat  old  and  unshaven,  and  unkempt  in 
appearance.  There  was  a  strange,  hard  look  on  his 
face,  and  he  stood  looking  at  the  woman  with  a  com- 
posed curiosity,  as  one  might  look  at  a  curious  article 
on  display. 

While  Hulda  looked,  he  did  not  change  his  attitude, 
or  remove  his  gaze  from  the  woman. 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  325 

Hulda  became  interested  in  the  strange  tableau, 
and  she  was  suddenly  recalled  to  herself,  by  the  sound 
of  a  familiar  voice.  She  looked  around.  La  Grange 
was  on  his  feet,  and  he  had  begun  speaking  in  a  low, 
moderate  tone.  He  stood  nearly  facing  the  Assembly, 
so  that  Hulda  had  a  full  view  of  his  face  and  figure. 
The  tumult  of  the  room  was  slowly  subsiding,  and 
most  of  the  faces  in  the  room  were  turned  to  the 
young  man,  whose  opening  sentences,  touched  with 
quiet  sarcasm,  showed  that  he  was  speaking  in  op- 
position to  the  bill.  He  went  on  speaking,  with  no 
hint  of  excitement  or  eagerness,  but  with  that  pleas- 
ant insistence  and  strength  of  statement,  which  Hulda 
recognized  as  his  old  characteristics  in  mental  conflict. 
He  spoke  as  if  the  bill  were  already  defeated.  He 
made  no  charges,  but  Hulda  began  to  see  that  his  re- 
marks were  ruinously  sarcastic,  relieved  by  bits  of  hu- 
mor that  further  attracted  the  attention  of  his  hearers. 
Hulda  was  trying  to  decide  just  what  the  matter  un- 
der consideration  really  was,  when  she  felt  her  hand 
suddenly  clasped,  and  Mrs.  Markham  was  leaning 
heavily  upon  her,  with  drooping  eyes,  and  paling 
cheeks. 

"Oh,  Dacie,  who's  that?"  she  murmured. 

Hulda  encircled  her  with  her  arms,  and  called  Mrs. 
Bruen's  attention.  But  Mrs.  Markham  whispered 
in  her  ear: 

"No,  I  am  not  sick.      Can't  we  go  out?" 

The  colonel's  attention  was  shortly  attracted;  he 
comprehended  in  an  instant,  and  with  graceful  ease 
he  took  Mrs.  Markham 's  arm  and  supported  and  led 


326  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

her  through  the  crowded  aisle,  into  the  ante-room. 
Once  outside  Mrs.  Bruen  and  Hulda  were  supporting 
her  with  solicitous  questions,  but  she  only  looked  at 
Hulda  with  pleading  eyes,  and  kept  hold  of  her  hand. 

"I  want  nothing,"  she  murmured,  "only  to  go 
home.  I  am  not  well, and  this  is  such  a  crowd." 

Once  in  the  carriage,  she  laid  her  head  on  Hulda' s 
shoulder,  and  did  not  seem  to  see  the  Bruens,  who 
were  full  of  anxiety. 

At  her  door  she  gave  her  hand  to  them  with  a  gen- 
tle good-afternoon,  which  indicated  her  desire  to  be 
alone. 

Hulda  always  knew  about  what  to  do.  Dropping 
her  wraps  in  the  hall  she  assisted  her  companion  to 
her  own  room  without  question  or  remark.  She  put 
her  on  the  lounge,  with  soft  pillows  around  her;  saw 
that  she  was  not  fainting;  removed  her  wraps;  lit 
the  fire  in  the  grate;  adjusted  the  light  in  the  room, 
and  ran  down  stairs  for  a  glass  of  wine.  She  brought 
it  to  the  lounge,  and  Mrs.  Markham  took  it  from  her 
hand,  with  a  faint  smile,  and  drank  part  of  it.  She 
placed  the  half  emptied  glass  on  a  stand  at  her  head, 
then  she  clasped  Hulda  s  waist,  as  she  was  about  to 
turn  way. 

"Dacie,  Dacie,"  she  said,  "I  am  a  lonely,  lonely 
woman.  Stay  close  to  me  now."  Hulda  knelt  down, 
and  with  an  arm  about  her,  kissed  her  gently. 

"Why,  I  love  to  stay  with  you,  Auntie.  I  am  so 
sorry  we  took  you  out.  That  was  a  horrid  crowd, 
and  it  distressed  you,  I  know." 

"No,  no,  Dacie,"   she  said.      "No,  matter.     That 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  327 

wasn't  it.  Have  I  been  a  good  mother  to  you, 
child?"  She  put  up  her  hand  caressingly  to  the  girl's 
face. 

"Oh,  Auntie,  what  makes  you  say  that?" exclaimed 
the  surprised  girl.  "You  have  been  more  than  a 
mother.  You  have  been  everything  to  me.  You 
have  been  too  good." 

Mrs.  Markham  looked  at  her  silently,  then  she 
turned  her  face  away,  and  Hulda  saw  the  silent  tears 
falling  from  her  eyes. 

"Auntie,  have  I  offended  you?" 

"No,  darling." 

Hulda  waited,  silently  caressing  her  hand.  After 
some  moments  Mrs.  Markham  turned  to  her  calmly 
with  more  strength  in  her  tone. 

"Dacie,  he  seemed  to  me  what  my  own  boy  might 
have  been,  and  he  looked  so  much  like  the  child's 
father.  Oh,  Dacie,  the  sin  of  my  life  keeps  coming 
back  to  me.  Can  I  ever  forget  it.  Darling,  I  wish 
I  could  tell  you  all  about  it.  But  you  would  hate 
me.  Oh,  I  did  wrong,  I  know  I  did.  And  all  my 
good  deeds  can't  wipe  it  out." 

"No,  Auntie,  I  don't  think  you  have  ever  done 
wrong,"  said  the  girl  calmly.  "Tell  me  all  about  it. 
You  will  feel  better,  and  I  can  help  you,  I  know. 
What  is  it,  dear?" 

Hulda  had  never  seen  her  like  this.  She  feared 
that  a  fever  might  be  coming  upon  her,  and  had  al- 
ready deranged  her  mind.  But  Mrs.  Markham  still 
clasped  her  hand,  and  seemed  more  composed.  After 
a  time  she  began  speaking  slowly. 


328  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"I  have  wanted  to  tell  you,  Dacie,  for  a  long  time, 
but  I  feared  one  thing,  and  that  was  your  condemna- 
tion. I  have  borne  my  trouble  all  these  years  alone, 
and  now  I  am  too  weak;  I  need  some  one  to  help 
me.  Do  you  remember  one  time,  I  told  you  I  lost 
my  first  husband  and  my  child  on  the  Isthmus? 
Dear,  I  will  tell  you  the  worst  of  it  now.  My  hus- 
band died,  but  my  little  boy  was  stolen  from  me.  I 
never  knew  what  became  of  him.  But  that  is  not  all 
or  the  worst.  When  I  married  Edward  Markharn, 
I  knew  that  his  brother  James  loved  me,  but  I  loved 
Edward  best.  James  came  away  to  California,  and 
in  a  few  years  we  followed  to  join  him.  We  were 
sick  with  the  fever  at  Panama  and  our  steamer  left 
us.  I  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  when  my  husband 
lay  dying  beside  me.  My  child  had  been  taken  away 
on  the  steamer,  so  they  told  me,  when  I  recovered, 
and  my  husband  was  buried.  When  I  arrived  at  San 
Francisco  I  sent  for  James  to  come,  I  was  so  worn 
and  broken  with  my  trouble,  it  was  all  I  could  do. 
I  had  several  thousand  dollars  that  we  had  hid  in  my 
clothing  for  the  trip,  and  I  ought  to  have  used  it  all 
to  hunt  for  my  boy.  I  think  the  fever  must  have 
changed  my  whole  nature  at  the  time.  I  was  so  de- 
pendent on  James  for  everything.  We  did  try  to 
find  my  little  Edward.  The  steamer  people  remem- 
bered that  a  man  in  the  steerage  had  had  a  little 
child,  but  he  escaped  from  their  notice  as  soon  as  the 
steamer  came  in,  and  in  no  way  could  we  find  him. 
We  went  up  to  the  mines,  but  the  mines  were  every- 
where then,  and  no  one  had  seen  such  a  person. 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  329 

Then  I  was  so  lonely  and  miserable — and  I  had  no 
near  relations  here  or  East.  James  was  kind  and  he 
loved  me  still,  so  in  six  months  I  was  married  to  him 
and  my  money  laid  the  foundation  of  our  fortunes. 
A  little  girl  was  born  to  me,  but  when  she  was  a  year 
old  she  died,  and  then  all  the  old  sorrow  came  back 
to  me.  I  began  to  feel  that  I  should  not  have  mar- 
ried. I  should  have  given  all  my  life  to  searching 
for  my  boy.  But  James  had  no  sympathy.  He  said 
we  might  travel  over  all  the  states  in  the  Union,  and 
never  find  him.  Then  his  business  was  here  and  our  in- 
vestments were  here,  and  James  was  always  jealous 
of  my  lost  boy.  Four  years  later  when  Archibald  was 
born,  I  was  happy,  and  for  many  years  thereafter. 
Now  I  have  been  a  widow  for  eight  years,  and  my  first 
child,  my  little  lost  boy,  seems  to  come  nearer  to  me 
every  day.  I  wish  I  knew  that  he  was  dead.  And 
to-day  when  that  young  man  stood  up  and  spoke,  he 
was  so  like  my  first  husband,  only  Edward  always  wore 
a  full,  long  beard;  and  his  voice  was  like  his,  too. 
He  seemed  about  the  age  my  boy  would  be,  nearly 
twenty-four.  I  was  utterly  overcome.  Dacie,  I  wish 
I  could  know  that  young  man.  It  would  do  me  good 
to  see  him,  after  I  got  used  to  that  strange  resem- 
blance you  know.  That  was  the  reason  I  took  you, 
Dacie,  and  I  did  so  much  for  other  girls  before  1 
found  you.  I  wanted  to  atone  for  my  lost  boy. 
Dacie,  do  you  think  I  could  have  found  him  if  I  had 
spent  the  rest  of  the  money?" 

Hulda  had  sunk  to  the  floor,  and  her  head  lay  low 
on  the  couch  by  Mrs.  Markham's  side,  but  she  an- 
swered in  a  clear  voice: 


330  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"No,  Auntie,  you  could  never  have  found  him." 

"Why,  Dacie?" 

"Because  some  one  stole  him  for  love  of  him,  and 
they  would  have  eluded  you  anyway." 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  dear?" 

"Because  if  they  hadn't  they  would  have  left  word 
with  the  steamship  company  to  try  to  find  the  child's 
friends,  and  gain  a  reward." 

Mrs.  Markham  was  silent  a  long  time,  and  Hulda 
did  not  move.  Then  she  said: 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  Dacie.  I  am  glad  I  told 
you.  You  don't  think  any  the  less  of  me,  do  you?" 

The  girl  lifted  her  head  and  folded  her  arms  around 
her  beloved  friend. 

"Indeed  I  think  a  thousand  times  more  of  you,  she 
murmured.  Then  she  dropped  her  head  and  was 
again  silent. 

"Dacie,  do  you  know  who  that  young   man   was?" 

"Yes,  Auntie,  I  have  met  him  several  times  in  so- 
ciety. His  name  is  La  Grange.  He  is  a  nice  young 
man,  I  think." 

"Why  have  you  never  asked  him  to  the  house?" 

"Why,  dear,  I  don't  know.  It  never  happened  to 
come  about." 

"Well,  Dacie,  we  must  attend  to  it,  and  I  will  in- 
clude him  in  my  list  of  proteges." 

Hulda  rose  up,  nerving  herself  to  calmness. 

"Now,  we  must  have  lunch,  Auntie.  I  will  go 
down  and  see  about  it.  You  must  lie  quiet,  and  I 
will  have  our  lunch  fixed  right  here." 

She  ran  out,  and  down  swiftly  to  Satsuma  and  the 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  331 

cook,  and  gave  her  orders.  Satsuma  could  be  trusted 
to  take  up  dishes  and  set  a  little  table  in  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  room,  and  she  told  him  just  how  she  wanted 
it  done.  Then  she  ran  up  the  narrow  back  stairs 
and  shut  herself  a  few  moments  in  her  own  room. 
Her  heart  was  beating  so  wildly  she  feared  she  could 
not  restrain  herself.  The  truth  was  clear  to  her 
mind.  As  many  times  as  she  had  pondered  over  the 
romantic  history  of  La  Grange,  she  had  never  thought 
to  connect  it  with  the  casual  remark  of  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  that  she  had  lost  her  husband  and  child  on  the 
Isthmus.  But  now  everything  was  convincing.  Mrs. 
Markham's  strange  perturbation  gver  the  picture  that 
was  so  like  La  Grange,  her  great  mental  excitement 
on  seeing  La  Grange  himself.  Hulda  pressed  her 
hands  to  her  throbbing  temples  and  hot  cheeks.  The 
consequences  to  her  of  the  revelation  were  overpow" 
ering,  but  she  tried  not  to  think  of  that.  The  great 
thought  was  not  to  excite  the  hopes  of  her  beloved 
friend  to  meet  disappointment.  It  was  too  serious 
a  matter  with  the  mother.  She  must  be  sure  of  the 
facts  before  she  made  any  revelation. 

Waiting  only  long  enough  to  compose  herself  she 
went  to  Mrs.  Markham's  room,  and  found  Satsuma 
trying  his  best  to  make  the  dishes  look  just  right  on 
the  table.  She  dismissed  him  with  a  smile,  and, 
with  a  few  deft  movements,  she  changed  the  entire 
plan  of  the  arrangement;  then  opening  a  small  cab- 
inet she  took  out  two  dainty  Haviland  china  cups  and 
a  quaint  silver  bowl.  Then  she  flew  to  the  garden 
for  three  red,  dewy  roses,  stepping  into  the  kitchen 


332  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

on  her  way  back,  to  see  that  the  toast  was  just  right. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  sitting  up  in  her  rocker  when 
she  returned;  with  quiet,  steady  eyes,  and  a  strange 
look  in  her  face. 

"Dacie,"  she  said  tenderly,  "you  are  such  a  treas- 
ure. 1  couldn't  get  on  without  you.  You  won't 
ever  get  married,  will  you?  Let  me  smell  those 
roses.  How  sweet  they  are!  Put  them  in  the  other 
vase.  There!" 

Satsuma  here  brought  in  a  tray  and  Hulda  ar- 
ranged the  lunch.  Mrs.  Markham  sat  up  and  sipped 
her  tea  reflectively. 

"Dacie,  now  don't  you  think  you  could  arrange  it 
very  soon  ?"  she  asked. 

"What,  Auntie?" 

"Why,  to  get  that  Mr.  La  Grange  here  so  I  could  see 
him.  Don't  think  I  am  crazy,  Dacie.  I  don't  im- 
agine he  is  my  lost  boy.  I  am  not  so  silly  as  that, 
but  I  know  I  should  like  him  for  his  resemblance." 

"I  might  try,"  answered  the  girl  slowly,  looking  into 
her  cup.  "When  would  you  feel  able  to  meet  him,  to- 
night?" 

"To-night?  Perhaps,  but  how  could  you  bring  it 
about?" 

"I  think  the  Bruens  know  him,  Auntie.  If  I  asked 
her,  she  would  do  most  anything  to  get  him  here." 

Mrs.  Markham  laughed  with  a  merry  appreciation 
of  the  sarcasm. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Bruen,  we  make  her  a  cat's  paw  for 
everything.  She'd  take  a  public  hack  to  go  and  get 
him,  if  we  told  her  to,  but  we  mustn't  do  anything 
so  bold." 


.  THE   ASSEMBLY    ROOM  333 

"Just  leave  it  to  me,"  answered  the  girl,  with  good 
natured  confidence.  "I'll  arrange  it  somehow.  I 
will  take  the  carriage  this  afternoon  for  some  calls, 
but  you  must  stay  at  home  and  rest,  won't  you?" 

"I  will,  dear,  I  suppose  there  will  be  company  to- 
night. Who  else  will  you  have  besides  this  young 
La  Grange?" 

Hulda  came  and  kissed  her.  "I  don't  know,  Aun- 
tie. Now  I  will  go  and  I  will  be  home  to  dinner  at 
six.  Rest  all  you  can." 

Hulda  ran  to  her  room,  but  she  only  stood  looking 
at  her  wraps  in  perplexing  thought. 

To  go  and  see  La  Grange  who  had  treated  her 
with  such  coolness  and  contempt,  and  tell  him  she 
had  found  his  mother?  Never.  And  what  if  it 
might  not  be  true.  He  would  think  she  was  planning 
to  renew  the  old  affair. 

And  what  if  he  proved  to  be  the  long  lost  child? 
Then  Mrs.  Markham  would  be  his,  no  longer  hers. 
And  this  property  earned  with  his  money!  He  had 
more  right  to  that,  than  even  Archie.  And  she  could 
no  longer  be  a  dependent  on  the  property  of  the  man 
who  despised  her.  Neither  would  Mrs.  Markham 
need  her.  Her  own  son  would  fill  that  longing  in 
her  heart  that  had  been  so  hard  to  satisfy,  and  he 
would  be  everything.  She  thought  of  his  adroitness, 
his  gallantry  and  thoughtfulness.  She  was  glad  for 
Mrs.  Markham.  He  was  more  than  worthy  of  his 
good  fortune.  She  walked  the  floor  till  Satsuma 
knocked. 

"The  carriage  wait,  Miss  Hardy." 


334  DAVID   OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

She  had  not  made  any  plans.  To  go  and  see  La 
Grange  herself  she  could  not.  As  for  that  rattle- 
headed Mrs.  Bruen,  that  was  out  cf  the  question. 

As  she  walked  through  the  garden  drawing  on  her 
gloves,  she  had  not  found  any  idea  that  suited  her. 
Putting  her  hand  on  the  gate,  the  right  thought  came 
to  her.  She  could  write  him  a  note,  So  she  went 
back  to  her  room,  sat  down  to  her  desk  and  wrote 
hastily. 

"Mr.  La  Grange:  — 

"Will  you  kindly  call  at  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  this  evening,  and  send  your  card  to  her.  I  have 
just  learned  that  she  lost  a  son  on  the  Isthmus  about 
the  time  you  were  stolen  there.  Please  state  your 
errand  to  her,  and  explain  your  history.  I  have  not 
given  her  any  warning,  but  she  knows  who  you  are, 
and  will  be  glad  to  see  you  anyway.  Very  re- 
spectfully, 

"H.  H." 

She  enclosed  this  in  an  envelope,  having  the  name 
and  address  of  Mrs.  Markham  on  the  corner,  and 
without  sealing  it  went  back  to  the  carnage.  She 
had  already  decided  not  to  trust  it  to  the  mails. 

"You  may  drive  down  to  the  Capitol,  Donovan," 
she  said,  "I  have  a  message  to  deliver  for  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham." 

At  the  Capitol  Donovan  carried  it  up-stairs,  gave 
it  to  the  doorkeeper  of  the  Assembly,  who  gave  it  to 
a  page  to  deliver. 

When  he  came  back,  nodded,  and  paid  a  boy  for 
having  held  the  horses,  Hulda  felt  nf  if  she  had  signed 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  335 

her  own  death  warrant.  She  had  ended  her  life  of 
ease  and  pleasure  with  Mrs.  Markham,  and  given  her 
beloved  second  mother  to  another.  As  for  staying  a 
moment  in  her  beautiful  home  with  La  Grange  in 
such  intimate  relations,  she  had  but  one  thought, 
and  that  not  to  attempt  it.  Her  painful  secret  would 
become  too  evident.  For  when  she  saw  him  stand- 
ing with  such  fine  presence  in  the  Assembly  room, 
she  knew  that  she  loved  him,  and  more  than  ever 
before.  Then  she  thought  bitterly  of  the  last  days 
at  Hardup,  and  the  wicked  slander  thac  had  separated 
memory  and  happiness  forever  from  her  life. 

Donovan  had  driven  her  to  a  vine-covered  brick 
house  far  out  on  O.  Street,  where  she  made  a  brief 
formal  call  in  the  name  o'f  Mrs.  Markham. 

When  she  came  out  again  in  the  sunlight,  she  felt 
that  in  another  day  she  would  no  longer  be  the  rich 
Mrs.  Markham's  ward  and  favorite,  but  simple  Hulda 
Hardy,  a  country  school-teacher.  Then  she  thought 
at  once  vividly  of  those  two  who  had  been  so  loyally 
true  to  her  in  that  sad  hour,  when  even  her  illiterate 
school  trustees  lost  faith  in  her — simple,  honest- 
hearted  Buck  and  Millie.  She  felt  as  if  she  wanted 
to  see  the  true  faces  of  Buck  and  Millie,  if  only  for 
a  few  minutes,  for  the  courage  it  would  give  her. 

She  told  Donovan  to  drive  her  to  the  little  home 
on  5th  and  Q.  Streets,  where  she  found  poor  Millie 
weeping,  and  Buck  trying  to  comfort  her  in  his  rude 
way.  Their  trouble  was  real,  and  Hulda  reproved 
herself  for  her  weak  and  foolish  heart. 

Poor  little  Willie  was  to  have  a  surgical  operation 


33^  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  next  day,  and  Millie  had  already  lost   her    nerve 
and  declared  she  could  not  endure  it. 

"Now,  Millie,  "pleaded  her  young  husband,  "'tain't 
no  use  to  act  that  way.  We've  got  to  help  the  doc- 
tor. We  ha'n't  got  no  money  to  hire  a  nurse.  Then 
he'll  have  the  chloroform,  and  won't  feel  nothing." 

Then  Millie  shuddered  again,  and  wept  afresh.  Mil- 
lie had  lost  flesh,  and  was  pale  and  sick — worn  out 
with  care. 

Hulda  went  directly  to  her  and  put  her  soothing 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  the  furred  cloak  falling  against 
the  solid  calico  dress. 

"Now,  Millie,  don't  worry  any  more.  I'll  come 
and  be  the  nurse.  Don't  you  think  I'd  make  a  good 
nurse,  Buck?" 

"Blame  me,  if  you  wouldn't,"  cried  Buck,  "but 
you  ain't  no  business  staying  down  here  when  you 
belong  at  that  fine  Markham  house." 

Then  Hulda  stood  up  with  firm  dignity,  and  her 
voice  had  a  ring  of  her  old  authority  in  the  teaching 
days. 

"No,  Buck,  you  are  wrong.  I  have  business  and 
a  right  to  stay  anywhere  I  please.  I  am  going  to 
stay  wherever  I  can  do  good.  Don't  you  remember 
how  good  you  and  Millie  were  to  me  when  the  trus- 
tees discharged  me?  Do  you  think  I  don't  remem- 
ber it?  Indeed  Millie,  I  will  stay  right  here  and  help 
you.  I'll  be  head  nurse  to-morrow." 

"Yes,"  said  Buck,  with  emotion  in  his  voice,  "don't 
Millie  and  me  know  how  good  you  was  to  us  once, 
when  you  rode  over  the  mountain  to  catch  us  and 


THE    ASSEMBLY    ROOM  337 

get  us  married  all  straight?     You  don't   suppose    we 
forgot  that,  do  you?" 

"Oh,  Buck,  don't,  don't."  *Huida  threw  up  her 
hands,  and  in  a  moment  she  lay  prone  on  the  old 
kitchen  lounge,  sobbing  hysterically. 

"The  Lord  help  us!"  cried  Buck,  walking  out  of 
the  room.  Then  Millie  went  to  her  babies,  and  when 
she  returned  Hulda  sat  up  and  took  her  hands. 

"It  was  calling  up  the  old  days.  I  was  so  happy, 
you  know,  before  mother  died." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Millie  simply,  "before  they 
talked  about  you." 

"But  it's  been  good  for  me  Millie  to  cry  a  little 
here  with  you.  We  won't  talk  about  old  days  any 
more.  Now  I'm  going  to  come  here  and  help  you, 
and  I'll  be  here  late  to-night  or  early  in  the  morning. 
Don't  say  no,  Millie." 

Millie  could  not  say  no.  She  was  more  than  wil- 
ling. 

"I'll  fix  up  the  boarder's  room  for  you,"  she  said, 
"and  he'll  sleep  in  some  other  house.  He'd  do  most 
anything.  He's  the  most  obliging  man  I  ever  saw." 

Hulda  smiled.  Millie  had  a  simple  way  of  making 
people  like  to  help  her.  She  was  so  guileless. 

Buck  was  restored 'to  his  equanimity,  by  coming 
in,  to  see  the  two  women  bending  over  the  patient 
little  sufferer.  His  crib  was  piled  full  of  toys,  and 
his  bright  black  eyes  were  fastened  on  a  bunch  of 
red  toy-balloons  that  floated  over  his  head. 

"It  does  beat  all,"  said  Millie.  "That  boarder 
brings  a  new  toy  for  Willie  every  day.  Ain't  it 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    za 


33^  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

queer?  He  don't  listen  to  us  at  all,  but  every  day  he 
comes  in  with  a  new  woolly  lamb,  or  doll,  or   some- 
thing.    And  he  looks  so    sad    and    dull,  too,  except 
when  he's  giving  a  toy  to  Willie." 
Then  Hulda  hurried  away. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  PICTURE    AGAIN. 

Hulda  was  back  home  in  time  to  give  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  the  usual  attention  before  dinner.  She  robed 
her  in  her  softest  black  silk  with  a  bit  of  rich  lace 
wherever  she  could  add  it.  She  brushed  her  hair 
into  many  soft  silvery  puffs,  and  crowded  on  dia- 
monds till  the  jewelry  case  was  about  empty. 

"Oh,  Dacie,"  protested  the  patient  subject,  "don't 
put  that  diamond  dart  into  my  hair." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  Hulda  cried  gayly.  "Trust  me  now. 
I  am  making  a  real  art-study  of  this.  You  are  going 
to  look  just  right,  never  fear." 

"Yes,  but  when  are  you  going  to  dress?  It's  din- 
ner time  now." 

"After  dinner  will  do  for  me,  Auntie." 

They  were  still  at  the  table,  when  the  bell  rang 
twice,  as  if  pulled  with  a  nervous  violence. 

Hulda  started  with  a  little  loss  of  self-control,  and 
all  the  color  faded  from  her  face. 

"Dacie,  are  you  ill?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham. 

The  girl  clasped  her  cold  hands  together  under  the 
table,  and  looked  pleadingly  at  her  companion. 

"I   believe   I  do   feel  a    little    indisposed,  Auntie. 
Would  you  excuse  me  from  appearing  to-night  ?" 

339 


340  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

Satsuma  brought  in  a  card,  and  Mrs.  Markharn 
passed  it  ever  to  her  with  a  pretty  smile.  There  was 
written  on  it  in  the  handwriting  the  girl  knew  so  well. 

"Edward  La  Grange.     To  see    Mrs.  Markham." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Auntie,"  she  said,  calling 
up  all  her  self  reliance  and  composure,  "there  is  no 
one  coming  but  Mr.  La  Grange.  .  He  is  very  much 
flattered  by  your  notice  of  him,  and  you  can  see  him 
alone  just  as  well.  I  do  feel  badly,  and  if  you  can 
excuse  me  I  will  be  glad." 

"But  he  is  a  perfect  stranger  to  me." 

If  Mrs.  Markham  thought  her  ward  had  been  doing 
some  singular  planning,  she  thought  it  no  time  to  re- 
prove her. 

"No  matter,  Auntie,  you  will  like  him  at  once." 

Hulda  came  around  to  her  and  encircled  her  neck 
with  her  arms.  "And  what  if  he  should  prove  to  be 
our  long  lost  boy?"  Hulda  disappeared  while  the 
startled  woman  was  struggling  to  her  feet,  and  the 
trembling  girl  found  her  way  groping  as  one  blind  up 
the  back  stairs  to  her  room. 

She  sat  down  on  her  bed  and  pressed  her  beating 
heart  with  her  hands.  She  had  already  partly  formed 
a  plan  of  conduct,  if  it  should  be  that  La  Grange  had 
a  better  right  there  than  herself.  She  would  leave 
the  house  that  night  and  make  Millie's  sick  child  an 
excuse  for  a  long  absence.  By  that  time  she  could 
decide  what  to  do,  and  she  thought  of  David  as  her 
friend  and  helper.  It  took  but  a  few  moments  to  go 
about  her  room  and  make  a  small  package  of  a  plain 
dress  and  a  few  toilet  articles.  She  grew  calm  and 


THE    PICTURE   AGAIN  341 

stronger  making  these  simple  preparations.  After  a 
time  she  went  out  into  the  upper  hall  and  listened. 
The  house  was  so  oppressively  still.  She  crouched 
down  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"Satsuma." 

Satsuma  came  gliding  softly  out  of  the  back  hall 
below. 

"Come  up  here,  Satsuma."  Satsuma  came,  soft- 
footed. 

"Satsuma,  where' s  Mrs.  Markham?" 

"She— the  front  parlor." 

"And  the  gentleman,  too?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Hardy." 

"Is  the  fire  all  right  there?" 

"I  know  not.      The  door  is  shut." 

"But  you  must  attend  to  it,  Satsuma.  Go  and 
knock  at  the  door  and  tell  her  you  must  fix  the  fire." 

Satsuma  did  exactly  as  he  was  told.  The  fire  did 
evidently  need  fixing,  for  he  came  out  for  fuel,  and 
after  having  gone  in  again,  repaired  to  his  post  in  the 
lower  hall. 

"Satsuma."     Satsuma  came  again. 

"Satsuma,  what  are  they  doing  in  the  parlor?" 

Satsuma  knew  his  place;  he  hesitated,  but  the 
girl  was  imperative. 

"Tell  me." 

"Oh,  Miss  Hardy,  they  cry." 

"Both  cry?" 

"I  think  both  cry." 

"What  else?" 

"She  like  the  young  man.  She  hold  he  hand.  He 
put  his  arm  around  her.  She  is  very  nice  lady." 


342  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Indeed  she  is,  Satsuma.  That  young  man  is  her 
son.  Now  go  down  and  watch  the  fire,  for  he  may 
stay  a  long  time,  and  she  will  forget  it." 

As  she  crossed  the  threshold  of  her  room  a  startling 
remembrance  crossed  her  mind. 

The  picture — he  must  not  see  it — he  would  recog- 
nize the  scene  at  once.  Then  the  thought  of  the  im- 
modesty of  having  done  it  at  all,  almost  overpowered 
her. 

Satsuma  slept  at  his  post  in  the  lower  hall.  It 
was  late,  and  he  studied  a  great  deal  between  his 
duties.  He  wanted  to  learn  the  English  so  well; 
faithful,  studious  Satsuma!  He  had  to  wait  till  all 
had  retired,  to  close  the  house  for  the  night,  and  so 
he  slept  before  his  little  table  in  the  hall.  He  was 
roused  by  the  sweet  voice  of  his  mistress,  who  stood 
under  the  bright  light  by  the  parlor  door,  leaning  in 
the  encicrling  arm  of  the  young  Assemblyman,  with 
the  brightest,  happiest  look  on  her  face,  that  it  had 
known  since  the  crown  of  hair  had  silvered  above  it. 

"Satsuma." 

"1  am  here." 

"Go  up  stairs,  Satsuma,  and  bring  down  that  pict- 
ure in  the  hall  with  the  Japanese  silk  draped  in  front 
of  it.  You  can  take  it  right  out  of  the  frame,  Sat- 
suma." 

She  turned  her  bright  eyes  up  to  the  face  above 
her. 

"About  this  remarkable  picture,  Edward,  I  want 
to  tell  you.  While  I  was  in  Boston  I  had  my  ward 
paint  a  picture  that  should  be  especially  for  me.  I 


THE    PICTURE    AGAIN  343 

was  so  unhappy  at  that  time.      I  was  thinking   every 
day  of  your    father  and  you,  and  the  young  girl    re- 
produced my  thoughts  in  the    picture.      A    figure   in 
the  picture  bears  such  a  close    resemblance    to    your 
father  and  you.      It  was  a  clear  case  of    mind   influ- 
ence.     My  thought    was  transmitted  to  her." 
Satsuma  came  softly  down  the  stairs. 
"There  is  no  picture  at  all.      It  is  not  there." 
"Oh,  dear,  Dacie  has  it.      Go  knock  at  her  door." 
Again  he  came  down. 
"She  sleep — She  does  not  wake." 
"Wait,  Edward,  I  will  go  up  and  get  it." 
Mrs.  Markham,  with  Satsuma's  lamp  in   her  hand, 
opened  the  door  of  her  "ward's"  room.      She  remem- 
bered that  Dacie  had  not  seemed  well.      But  the  bed 
was  undisturbed,  and   an   open    bit    of   writing    was 
pinned  to  the  yellow  plush  cover  on  the   light   stand. 

"Dear  Auntie: — I  have  heard  that  a  friend's  child 
is  very  ill,  and  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  go.  You  will 
spare  me,  won't  you,  fora  few  days.  You  have  your 
son  now,  and  you  can  well  spare  me.  I  am  so  glad 
for  you.  I  had  heard  La  Grange's  history,  and  I 
almost  knew  it  was  so  when  you  told  me.  I  tried  to 
manage  it  for  the  best  for  you. 

"Loving  and  gratefully, 

"DACIE." 

Mrs.  Markham  read  it  wonderingly,  but  so  great 
had  been  the  excitement  of  the  evening,  and  so  en- 
grossed was  she  in  her  new  joy,  that  the  impression 
it  made  was  very  slight.  She  was  willing  to  spare 


344  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

her,  or  any  one  else — her  only  thought  was  her  son 
— her  first  born,  long  lost  son. 

But  that  she  did  not  find  the  picture  in  that  room 
or  the  studio,  surprised  and  distressed  her  She  was 
disappointed  and  disturbed,  as  she  came  down  stairs. 

"Satsuma,  I  shall  think  that  picture  has  been  stolen. 
Look  everywhere  in  the  house  for  it.  And,  Satsuma, 
see  that  the  blue  room  is  ready.  This  gentleman  will 
stay  here  to-night." 

Whatever  La  Grange  thought  of  the  picture  and 
its  story,  he  said  little  in  regard  to  it.  He,  too,  was 
entirely  controlled  by  the  joy  of  the  present  moment, 
and  the  meaning  to  him  of  the  happy  discovery.  He 
had  found  himself  at  his  wit's  end  from  the  first  to 
explain  to  his  "beautiful  mother,"  as  he  called  her 
the  first  few  days,  how  it  was  that  he  had  not  found 
her  before.  He  had  to  go  over  the  explanation  many 
times.  He  had  known  nothing  about  his  orphanage 
till  he  was  eight  or  nine  years  old,  when  his  natural 
gift  of  observation  made  known  to  him,  that  he  was 
not  the  son  of  La  Grange.  Then  he  had  been 
brought  up  to  rock  the  cradle  for  his  foster  mother, 
and  to  have  a  feeling  of  brotherhood  and  obligation 
towards  the  children.  When  Mr.  La  Grange  died 
he  had  to  take  the  place  of  the  father  of  the  family. 
Just  before  Mr.  La  Grange  died,  he  had  told  him 
that  his  own  father  and  mother  had  died  on  the 
Isthmus,  and  implored  him  to  be  a  brother  to  the 
helpless  little  ones.  Then  his  foster  mother  had 
shown  and  given  him  what  was  left  of  the  little 
clothes  he  had  been  dressed  in  when  he  was  brought 


THE    PICTURE    AGAIN  345 

from  Panama,  and  which  the  elder  La  Grange  had 
put  by  when  he  had  been  able  to  procure  others — not 
with  any  definite  purpose,  but  as  objects  of  curiosity. 
La  Grange  had  rolled  them  up  and  kept  them,  stow- 
ing them  away  in  the  bottom  of  his  trunk,  when  he 
no  longer  lived  at  the  mountain  home.  His  duty  to 
the  family,  and  his  own  ambition,  were  then  the 
leading  impulses  of  his  life,  and  he  had  thought  of 
nothing  to  search  for  except  the  identification  of  his 
name  and  relationship.  But  this  he  intended  to  do 
some  time,  when  possessed  of  means  and  leisure. 

Convinced  of  all  this,  Mrs.  Markham  then  asked 
the  great  question  that  had  lain  so  heavily  on  her 
heart 

"Could  I  have  found  you,  if  I  had  searched  more 
and  gone  farther?" 

"No,  no,  mother,  you  would  not  have  found  me. 
Mr.  La  Grange  was  mining  in  a  deep  canon  far  from 
any  stage  station.  When  he  married  he  took  up  a 
little  place  fifteen  miles  from  Forest  Grove,  and  there 
we  were  six  miles  from  any  town.  'There  I  was 
brought  up  to  almost  live  in  the  woods  on  my  pony, 
looking  after  our  sheep  and  hogs.  We  had  a  garden 
and  started  an  orchard,  and  Mr.  La  Grange  worked 
in  the  mines." 

"My  poor  boy,"  sighed  the  mother. 

La  Grange  laughed  heartily,  and  set  his  head  in 
his  own  proud  fashion. 

"Why,  no,  mother,  that  was  good  for  me.  I  was 
tough  as  a  little  Indian,  and  when  I  learned  to  read, 
the  people  used  to  lend  me  all  the  books'  they  had. 


346  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

There  were  many  well  educated  Eastern  people 
stowed  away  in  those  mountains,  in  those  days,  and, 
mother,  to  tell  the  truth,  my  social  influences  were 
better  than  they  are  now  in  the  legislature  of  our 
State." 

Then  they  were  very  merry  together  over  his  in- 
dependent criticism. 

La  Grange  had  thought  it  best,  and  so  had  she, 
upon  reflection,  that  he  should  not  change  his  name 
till  after  the  close  of  the  legislative  session;  and  that 
they  would  let  the  fact  of  his  relationship  to  her  come 
out  only  gradually  through  her  most  intimate  friends. 

But  she  refused  to  be  parted  from  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  day  after  the  discovery,  she  had  had  him 
remove,  with  all  his  papers,  effects  and  belongings, 
to  the  handsome  blue  room,  and  get  a  secretary  to  do 
his  writing;  and  what  with  his  coming  and  going, 
and  the  clerks  with  special  business,  Satsuma  was 
kept  awake  day  and  night.  And  the  horses  were  in 
the  carriage  every  day,  standing  in  front  of  the  old 
mansion,  or  going  to  and  from  the  Capitol  Building. 

Mrs.  Markham  found  the  Assembly  Chamber  a  de- 
lightful spot.  Her  chair  beneath  a  window  on  the 
right  was  soft  spacious  and  comfortable,  and  she 
ignored  all  that  was  unpleasant  in  the  people  she 
met  or  the  controversial  aspect  of  the  legislature. 
She  sat  absorbed  in  happiness,  her  eyes  and  ears  on 
the  figure  and  words  of  her  new  found  son,  whose 
abilities  and  fine  personal  qualities  were  winning  him 
many  disinterested  friends  and  admirers. 

One  day  just  before  the  dinner  hour  at  the  home, 


THE    PICTURE    AGAIN  347 

Mrs.  Markham  received  a  note  from  Hulda,  begging 
for  a  longer  absence,  and  asking  for  some  clothing 
from  her  bureau,  to  be  sent  by  the  bearer,  a  plain 
elderly  looking  man,  Millie's  boarder,  and  it  was  not 
until  after  he  had  gone  that  Mrs.  Markham  noticed 
that  the  address  was  not  on  the  note. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said,  standing  in  the  library  bay 
window,  "Dacie's  absence  at  any  other  time  would 
have  been  unendurable.  I  would  have  inquired  into  it 
and  brought  her  home,  but  now  I  can  think  of  no  one 
but  you,  Edward." 

"But  you  ought  to  know  where  she  is,"  he  said 
gravely. 

"Oh,  I  can  trust  her,"  she  said,  "she's  all  right. 
She  will  be  home  in  a  few  days." 

"My  mother,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  and  with  a 
manner  of  doing  a  disagreeable  duty,  "did  you  ever 
investigate  that  strange  gossip  that  went  around 
about  her  about  the  time  her  mother  died?" 

"What?  That  a  stray  child  was  hers?  Oh,  yes, 
I  talked  with  Mrs.  Cornman  about  it,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it." 

"But  I  understand  that  she  has  acknowledged   it." 

"Why,  when?" 

"When  Prof.  Cornman  was  down  he  told  me  that 
she  acknowledged  it  to  his  wife  here  at  your  house." 

"Edward,  it  can't  be  so." 

"I  am  surprised,  but  so  he  said." 

She  was  silent  and  she  bent  her  white  face  over 
her  cold  clasped  hands. 

"You  are  shivering,  mother,"  he  said  tenderly.  "I 
am  sorry  I  told  you." 


348  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Oh,  Edward,"  she  wept,  leaning  on  his  warm 
arm,  "I  will  never  be  disappointed  in  you.  Your 
father  was  a  true  and  good  man  if  there  ever  was 
one." 

"I  shall  try  to  be  like  him,  my  -precious    mother." 

Her  head  lay  on  his  shoulder  and  then  both  were 
silent. 

"Meanwhile,"  she  said  later,  "don't  let  us  speak  of 
Dacie  at  all.  She  brought  you  to  me,  God  bless  her! 
When  she  comes  home  I  will  make  her  tell  me  all 
about  it,  and  then  I  can  judge." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

DR.     WELCOME    MAKES    A     PROFESSIONAL     STATEMENT. 

That  same  night  Hulda  sat  alone  by  the  crib  of  the 
little  sufferer.  She  had  insisted  upon  doing  all  the  night 
watching.  Millie  was  already  worn  out,  and  Buck 
could  not  handle  the  child,  as  she  could.  Only  a  wo- 
man's gentle  hand  could  turn  the  boy  when  he  awoke 
from  his  fitful  slumber.  He  was  not  doing  as  well 
as  the  surgeon  had  hoped  he  would.  But  this  night 
he  was  resting  well,  and  Hulda's  thoughts,  if  not  her 
attention,  were  turned  back  to  herself.  In  the  two 
weeks  of  labor  and  care  for  her  friends  she  had  had  a 
constant  struggle  to  control  her  own  thoughts,  and 
she  had  grown  thinner,  and  her  face  was  almost  as 
pale  as  the  child's  white  brow.  She  lay  back  in  the 
large  old  fashioned  rocker,  that  Millie's  boarder  had 
purchased  at  some  second  hand  store,  and  pressed 
upon  their  acceptance;  her  hands  were  clasped  rigidly 
upon  her  lap,  and  her  large  eyes  stared  at  the  ceiling. 

The  change  in  her  life  had  filled  her  with  a  new 
hopelessness.  Even  Millie  with  her  sick  child  had 
more  happiness  than  she.  There  was  nothing  now 
to  do,  but  to  go  away  from  every  one  who  had  ever 
known  her,  arid  to  leave  them  all,  with  the  joys  she 
had  been  the  instrument  of  bringing  them.  Cis, 

349 


35O  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

with  her  good  husband;  La  Grange,  with  his  mother. 
She  thought  of  Boston.  Alfred  Hoffner  could  and 
would  help  her  to  get  pupils  in  painting.  It  was 
easier  to  dwell  upon  what  she  could  do  than  to  think 
of  leaving  all  and  everything;  for  she  loved  them  all, 
her  friends,  her  social  advantages,  everything. 

She  was  embittered,  rebellious,  unresigned.  Why 
had  her  life  been  such  a  failure  ?  It  had  been  one 
long  series  of  blunders  and  mistakes.  She  had  made 
a  mistake  in  going,  an  ignorant,  unsophisticated  girl, 
to  San  Francisco,  alone  on  the  advice  of  a  good 
clergyman,  who  knew  no  more  about  the  wickedness 
of  the  world  than  a  child.  She  had  blundered  in  be- 
ing willing  to  help  Cis,  by  bringing  home  her  infant 
without  knowing  anything  about  the  circumstances. 
She  had  blundered  in  not  telling  her  mother  of  Mr. 
Cornman's  first  wooing.  He  had  only  become  her 
enemy  by  being  tempted  to  a  second  proposal.  She 
had  made  a  mistake  when  she  had  given  up  her 
chance  at  Forest  Grove,  before  asking  La  Grange  to 
explain.  Had  she  been  more  cautious  she  would  have 
remained  at  Forest  Grove,  and  La  Grange  might 
have  been  her  friend  when  her  trouble  came.  They 
might  have  learned  to  understand  each  other  better. 
She  had  done  wrong  in  not  discerning  that  David 
might  marry  Cis,  if  he  did  not  know  the  truth. 

Millie  had  told  her  how  the  evil  talk  had  been  re- 
vived by  David's  marriage,  and  her  visit  at  that  time. 

Then  she  had  erred  by  painting  that  picture  in  the 
east.  She  would  have  to  steal  it  yet  from  its  hiding 
place  and  burn  it.  And  she  had  done  wrong,  when 


DR.   WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT     351 

she  had  exclaimed  to  Mrs.  Cornman,  in  a  petulant 
passion,  that  the  child  was  hers.  It  was  unwise  to 
be  angry  after  so  long,  over  the  curiosity  which  was 
but  natural.  She  had  accused  La  Grange  of  dis- 
honor, and  been  unwilling  to  trust  him  for  the  future; 
she  had  cast  him  off  for  one  fault,  and  because  he 
had  wondered  and  inquired,  with  all  the  county  tes- 
tifying against  her,  she  had  been  angry  and  cast  away 
the  jewel  of  her  own  integrity.  Mrs.  Cornman  would 
not  believe  her  now,  should  she  deny  it. 

Errors,  blunders,  calamity,  and  through  it  all  she 
had  been  true  to  her  friends,  a  pure,  loving  woman, 
and  she  was  glad  of  that.  '  She  knelt-by  the  crib  to 
put  her  fingers  on  the  little  wrist  to  note  the  pulse. 
She  had  a  heart  to  pity  the  suffering  yet,  a  heart  to 
love  and  help.  A  heart  yet  too  proud  to  be  selfish, 
too  noble  to  betray.  She  was  glad  of  that.  She 
noted  that  the  child's  pulse  was  stronger  than  it  had 
been,  and  she  arose  with  a  feeling  of  relief.  It  meant 
that  she  could  be  getting  ready  to  go  away  to  her 
mother's  grave,  and  then,  Boston.  She  walked  to 
the  window  noiselessly  and  looked  out.  A  mass  of 
scudding  clouds  had  just  passed  over,  and  the  moon 
round  and  bright  overhead,  came  out  in  all  its  splen- 
dor. She  was  looking  towards  the  east  across  some 
vacant  lots.  The  great  dome  of  the  Capitol  building 
shone  out  white  and  still  in  the  moonlight. 

To  leave  everything!  She  clasped  her  hands  to 
her  beating  temples.  It  was  another  rush  of  bitter 
memories.  La  Grange  whom  she  helped  to  nobler 
principles,  whom  she  gave  to  his  mother,  who  was 


352  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

steadily  climbing  to  his  high  destiny,  and  whom  she 
still  loved  in  memory,  yet  hated  in  her  prouder, 
stronger  moments.  She  sank  on  her  knees  and  re- 
lieved her  heart  and  her  head  in  her  first  burst  of 
tears. 

When  daylight  came,  the  old  man,  Millie's  boarder, 
came  in  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  watch  till  the 
mother  came  out,  and  Hulda,  (it  was  the  first  morn- 
ing she  had  felt  drowsy  and  sleepy),  crept  away  to 
bed. 

At  noon  she  heard  Dr.  Welcome's  cheery  voice  in 
the  hall  and  she  came  out  to  get  his  verdict.  Little 
Willie  was  better,  decidedly  so.  His  system  was 
rallying. 

"And,  Miss  Hardy,"  continued  Dr.  Welcome,  "I 
have  a  message  for  you.  I  have  a  new  patient,  two 
new  patients,  in  fact.  They  were  sending  a  messen- 
ger all  over  town  last  night  for  a  girl  named  Hulda. 
When  I  happened  to  hear  it  was  Miss  Hardy  they  were 
hunting  for,  I  knew  just  exactly  where  you  were  and 
what  you  were  doing.  I  promised  to  send  you  up 
after  your  morning  nap.  A  friend  of  yours,  a  pretty 
little  Mrs.  Strong,  has  a  baby  boy,  and  she  asked  for 
you  a  dozen  times  through  the  night.  You'd  better 
go  up,  Miss  Hardy.  Willie  is  much  better,  and  you 
need  a  change.  Tell  them  I  will  be  there  this  after- 
noon but  I  may  be  late.  Good  day  Miss  Hardy. 
Cheer  up  little  mother,  Willie's  coming  on."  And  the 
good  doctor  hurried  away. 

When  Hulda  had  donned  the  street  dress  she  had 
worn  there  the  fur^trimmed  cloak  and  richly  plumed 


DR.  WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT     353 

hat  she  looked  again  like  the  elegant  young  woman 
who  had  visited  the  Assembly  Chamber  with  Mrs. 
Markham  except  for  the  paleness  of  her  face  and  the 
nervous  watchful  glance  she  lifted  to  every  passer-by. 
She  was  not  used  to  walking  alone  in  that  part  of  town 
— for  many  reasons  she  did  not  wish  to  meet  ac- 
quaintances. The  rain  had  begun  to  fall  mistily  and 
the  grassy  paths  of  the  lower  streets  were  wet  and 
dank.  She  crossed  the  business  streets  with  a  more 
rapid  step,  and  up  Sixth  street  past  the  great  brick 
church;  there  she  had  met  many  of  the  brightest  peo- 
ple of  the  town ;  then  a  block  east  to  pass  the  old 
brick,  High-school  building,  where  she  had  danced 
with  far  better  grace,  both  mentally  and  physcially 
than  on  the  pine  pl'atform  at  Oak  Flat,  that  dear  old 
picnic  day;  and  down  by  the  high,  whitewashed  Con- 
vent wall,  where  she  had  walked  in  the  grassy  shade 
so  many  summer  days,  crowding  the  last  pages  of  her 
text  books  into  her  mind;  then  a  few  more  blocks  of 
neat  cottages  and  green  gardens,  in  the  soft  rain,  and 
she  came  to  the  small  house  set  close  to  the  street, 
where  the  Strongs  were  living. 

David  opened  the  door  ere  she  had  closed  the  gate. 

"I  am  looking  for  Dr.  Welcome,"  he  said,  coming 
out  with  a  troubled,  haggard  face.  "Hulda,  she's 
gone  clear  out  of  her  head  since  the  doctor  left  this 
morning.  She  must  be  very  sick." 

He  had  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  stood  to 
prevent  her  from  entering  while  he  unburdened  his 
trouble  to  her. 

"What  does  it  mean,  Hulda?     She  doesn't    know 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    23 


354  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

anything.  She  keeps  asking  for  people  I  never  heard 
of.  Who  is  Max?  And  who  is  Mrs.  Ellis?  and  she 
says  that  she  is  alone  in  the  town,  and  that  we  don't 
take  care  of  her." 

Hulda  leaned  against  the  wall  and  was  speechless 
for  a  moment.  Then  she  slowly  drew  off  her  damp 
gloves. 

"Don't  fret,  David,"  she  pleaded,  "it's  nothing. 
She's  only  out  of  her  mind.  Who  is  with  her?" 

"She's  got  a  German  woman  for  a  nurse,  but  I 
can't  understand  a  word  she  says.  I  was  afraid  to 
leave  to  go  for  the  doctor  till  you  came.  Oh,  Hulda, 
won't  you  stay?  Can't  you  stay  with  us?" 

"Why,  certainly,  Dave.  Of  course.  Now  get  your 
hat,  and  hurry." 

Hulda  went  in  quietly,  removed  her  wraps  in  the 
stiff  little  parlor,  found  the  sick-room,  bent  over  the 
woman  for  whom  her  life  had  been  a  sacrifice,  and 
with  the  first  touch  of  her  soft  fingers,  Cis  turned  her 
shining  eyes  to  her,  seemed  for  an  instant  to  know 
her,  and  grew  more  calm.  The  nurse  nodded  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction.  The  girl  had  meant  more  than 
her  simple  words  "Certainly,  Dave,"  had  implied. 
Her  meaning  lay  in  her  heart,  and  was  the  same  self- 
sacrificing  pity  for  an  unfortunate,  and  the  same  res- 
olution to  keep  her  vow  to  her  dying  mother  that  had 
held  her  to  her  course  all  these  years.  She  went  to 
the  sick  bed  to  stay  there  as  the  interpreter  of  the  un- 
fortunate woman,  who  had  lost  control  of  her  mind. 

The  nurse  was  efficient,  faithful,  strong  and  willing, 
and  the  girl  knew  nothing  about  the  scientific  care 


DR.  WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT    355 

that  must  be  given,  but  her  power  was  manifest  when 
she  took  the  tossing  hands  in  hers,  and  hushed  the 
pitiful  ravings  with  her  low  calm  words. 

Dr.  Welcome  came  in,  lost  his  cheery  manners, 
and  went  away  without  a  word.  He  came  back  with  his 
counsel,  and  Hulda  waited  with  David  on  the  narrow 
porch,  the  mist  of  the  rain  blowing  in  their  faces, 
while  ther consultation  was  held.  She  had  never  seen 
David  look  so.  His  eyes  had  lost  their  steady,  cairn 
look,  his  mouth  was  working  nervously;  he  thrust  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  leaned  against  the  wall, 
partly  turned  away  from  her.  Hulda  was  painfully 
distressed  by  his  exhibition  of  anxiety,  but  she  felt 
almost  afraid  to  speak  to  him. 

"Please  don't,  Dave,"  she  said  gently,  but  he  gave 
no  heed. 

Dr.  Welcome  came  out  with  his  counsel,  hurrying 
away. 

"Well,  my  good  man,"  he  said  patronizingly,  "don't 
worry.  I  think  she'll  come  out  all  right."  Hulda 
hurried  back. 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Mrs.  Ellis?"  said  Cis  looking  up 
wildly.  "Tell  Max  to  come  and  marry  me  now,  for 
baby's  sake,  won't  you?" 

"Darling,  of  course  I  will,"  murmured  Hulda  with 
broken  voice  and  fall  of  tears.  "Now  lie  quiet,  dear." 
David  soon  found  tfiat  his  presence  in  the  sick-room 
was  regarded  as  a  sort  of  innovation.  Either  the 
nurse  or  Hulda  met  him  with  a  frown,  if  he  crossed 
the  threshold.  But  no  one  objected,  when  he  stood 
with  wrapt  admiration  over  his  boy,  who  had  a  crib 


356  DAVID    OF    JUMPER    GULCH 

to  himself  by  the  fire  in  the  sitting-room,  and  who, 
from  the  first,  showed  perfect  satisfaction  with  his 
fate  in  life,  and  systematically  divided  his  time  be- 
tween his  bottle  and  his  sleep. 

David  could  amuse  quiet  little  Nonie,  and  walk 
the  block  watching  for  the  doctor;  that  was  about 
all  he  could  do,  and  Hulda  noticed  each  day  a  new 
line  of  care  on  his  face. 

But  the  strain  was  relaxed  sooner  than  they  all  ex- 
pected. It  was  less  than  a  week  when  Cis  opened 
her  eyes  one  night  and  smiled  upon  Hulda  with  her 
old  sweet  expression.  Later  she  awoke  and  said: 

"Can't  Dave  come  and  sit  with  me  some  ?  You  look 
so  tired,  Hulda."  After  another  hour  Hulda  called 
David.  She  knew  that  the  delirium  was  over.  Her 
vigil  had  ended.  • 

She  went  into  the  little  extra  bedroom,  removed 
her  dress  for  the  first  time  and  laid  her  aching  head 
on  the  cold  pillow. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  she  was  still  sleep- 
ing the  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and  Dr.  Welcome  sent 
the  nurse  to  arouse  her.  Then  the  days  went  on 
very  well.  Cis  was  cheery  and  happy;  David  found 
that  his  home  was  his  own  again,  and  was,  and 
seemed,  more  like  himself.  Hulda  stayed.  Cis  clung 
to  her  in  love  and  gratitude,  and  the  girl  in  the  kitchen 
needed  her  supervision  to  secure  tne  comfort  of  the 
household. 

The  first  day  that  she  felt  that  she  could  be  spared, 
she  walked  down  to  see  that  Millie  was  getting  on 
very  well,  and  that  Willie  was  improving  rapidly. 


DR.   WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT    357 

Manifestly  she  did  not  wish  to  stay  there,  except  in 
case  of  absolute  necessity,  and  she  knew  that  David 
was  able  and  willing  to  give  her  a  home. 

One  day  at  David's  she  glanced  from  the  window 
and  saw  the  Markham  carriage  drive  up,  and  Mrs. 
Markham  was  in  it  alone.  Hulda  ran  out.  She  did 
not  want  Mrs.  Markham  brought  into  that  cold  little 
parlor.  She  sprang  into  the  carriage,  wound  her 
arms  around  her  friend,  and  kissed  her  brow. 

"I  had  Donovan  hunt  you  up, "said  Mrs.  Markham. 
"You  look  utterly  worn  out,  and  I  think  this  is  too 
bad.  You  are  making  a  martyr  of  yourself.  What 
do  you  do  it  for?" 

I  feel  that  my  friends  have  claims  on  me, "said  the 
girl.  "Besides  you  could  well  spare  me.'' 

Mrs.  Markham  caught  the  girPs  hands  in  ecstasy. 

"Oh,  Dacie,"  she  cried,  "if  you  only  could  imagine 
how  happy  I  am.  My  son  'is  the  noblest  and  best 
young  man  I  ever  knew.  I  am  with  him  every  mo- 
ment, but  it  was  to  be  so  noisy  in  the  legislature  this 
morning,  he  wouldn't  let  me  go.  When  the  extra 
session  is  over  we  are  going  to  San  Jose  to  see  Ar- 
chie, then  up  to  Rocky  Divide  to  see  his  old  home ; 
then  we  may  go  East."  Hulda  divined  with  every 
sentence  that  she  was  left  entirely  out  of  their  calcu- 
lations. 

"And,"  continued  Mrs.  Markham,  "I  have  not  for- 
gotten that  you  brought  him  to  me.  I  am  going  to 
make  it  right  with  you.  I  am  thinking  of  a  gift  of 
five  thousand,  and  with  your  cottage— 

Hulda  drew  away  her  hands,  her  eyes  flashing. 


35&  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Which  I  shall  not  accept.      I  want  nothing." 

"Oh,  but  Dacie,  let  me  talk"- 

"No,  no — "  She  loved  her  old  friend;  besides  she 
was  his  mother.  She  wound  her  arm  around  her  and 
kissed  her  white  brow  and  the  silvery  waves  of  hair, 
then  stepped  from  the  carriage.  She  motioned  to 
Donovan,  and  Mrs.Markham,  with  a  surprised,  grieved 
expression  on  her  face,  was  driven  away. 

Hulda  stumbled  up  the  steps.  "I  believe  I  am 
very  weak,"  she  thought,  "and  this  is  the  last — they 
have  done  with  me."  She  found  the  door-knob  at 
last. 

David  fond  her  leaning  helplessly  against  the  wall, 
and  with  a  moan  she  staggered  into  his  arms.  The 
good  German  nurse  put  the  girl  to  bed. 

"I  have  her  sleep,"  she  said  to  David.  "I  think  one 
week  she  not  sleep  anything." 

Cicelia  Strong  now  improved  rapidly.  David 
wanted  to  go  to  Hardup,  and  the  Junpier  mine,  for 
business  that  could  not  be  postponed,  and  he  seemed 
to  think  it  a  happy  incident  that  Hulda  was  there  to 
be  in  the  household  while  he  was  away.  So  David 
kissed  his  gentle  wife  and  was  gone,  and  Hulda 
bought  an  armful  of  quiet  story  books  and  read  them 
to  Cis.  This  was  not  making  a  good  beginning  in 
the  economy  she  must  practice,  but  amusement  then 
for  both  was  of  paramount  importance. 

The  evening  David  returned  his  wife  met  him  at 
the  door,  and  Hulda,  in  her  little  room,  knew  that 
their  happiness  was  complete,  and  that  her  work  was 
done.  She  bent  her  head  in  her  hands  and  tried  to 


DR.   WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT     359 

frame  the  letter  she  should  write  to  Alfred  Hoffner. 
He  had  wanted  her  to  remain  as  his  assistant,  but  it 
was  an  effort  to  think,  so  she  went  out  to  hear  David 
and  his  wife  talk  of  Hardup.  His  first  news'  was  for 
her.  The  cottage  was  vacant.  The  Cornmans  had 
moved  to  Forest  Grove.  David  was  not  favorable 
to  the  idea  she  proposed,  that  of  selling  it.  He 
might  live  in  it  himself  and  rent  the  old  Beverly 
place.  He  wanted  to  see  Hulda  clear  the  pines  away 
and  set  out  more  fruit  trees. 

Later  Dr.  Welcome  came.  It  was  his  last  call, 
and  made,  so  Hulda  thought,  to  leave  his  bill.  Dr. 
Welcome  had  shown  a  disposition  to  ask  her  personal 
questions,  so  she  withdrew  to  her  little  room  so  near 
the  sidewalk,  and  sat  down  by  the  open  window  to 
listen  to  the  strumming  of  a  guitar  across  the  street. 
Dr.  Welcome  and  David  came  out  and  stood  at  the 
gate.  Suddenly  the  guitar  stopped  and  the  voice  of 
the  doctor  came  clearly  to  her  ear. 

"I  know,"  Dr,  Welcome  was  saying,  "I  know  the 
bill  is  large,  but  I  paid  my  counsel  twenty  dollars, 
and  it  was  an  unusual  case.  I  can  tell  you  just  why. 
The  woman  evidently  had  no  care  with  her  first  child, 
either  an  ignorant  doctor,  or  criminal  neglect,  sir.  I 
make  that  as  a  professional  statement,  sir,  and  you 
can  put  the  blame  where  it  belongs,  probably." 

"Then  you  took  that  little  girl  for  hers,"  said  David. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  take  any  one  for  hers,"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "My  professional  knowledge  showed  me  that 
she  had  had  a  child  previously.  That  was  all.  Well, 
goodnight,  Mr.  Strong.  Your  wife  will  soon  be  as 
well  as  ever.  Good-night." 


360  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

David,  leaning  against  the  gatepost,  did  not  move. 
Hulda  sat  rigid  with  horror,  till  a  sudden  movement 
of  David's  aroused  her. 

"By  Heavens!  I  shall  know  the  truth,"  he  said, 
starting  up  the  steps.  But  Hulda  was  first,  and 
stood  before  him. 

"Dave,  don't  go  in  now,  I  want  to  speak  to  you. 
Come  out  on  the  street."  She  took  his  arm  and 
dragged  him  down  the  steps,  and  out  onto  the  side- 
walk. 

She  walked  on  and  David  came  willingly,  but  he 
did  not  speak.  Hulda  afterwards  remembered  that 
she  had  an  inward  feeling  of  condemnation  or  reproof, 
for  her  steps  seemed  light,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
walking  on  air;  but  yet  on  her  brain  beat  over  and 
over  those  dying  words  of  her  sainted  mother,  "Be 
true,  protect." 

When  at  last  David  stopped,  they  were  under  the 
high,  white-washed  Convent  wall,  the  street  solitary 
in  front,  and  the  bare  branches  of  the  trees  hanging 
over  them. 

David  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall,  and  pulled 
his  hat  over  his  eyes. 

"You  are  right,  Hulda,"  he  said,  "I  shouldn't  go 
in  angry." 

"David,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  ever  be  angry.  Let 
it  stop  right  here."  He  looked  up  at  her. 

"Hulda,  you  know  all  about  this.  Did  you  come 
out  here  to  tell  me?  There  is  no  use  now,  it's  all 
got  to  come  out." 

"Poor  Cis,  don't  harm  her,  David.      She   was    not 


DR.   WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT    361 

to  blame,"  she  still  pleaded.  David's  voice  was  calm 
and  he  stood  up  squarely. 

"I  understand  that,  Hulda.  She  is  my  wife  and 
true  and  loving.  I  can't  remember  the  time  when  I 
didn't  love  her,  and  now  she's  the  mother  of  my  boy; 
but  Hulda,  it's  no  use,  this  all  came  out  when  the 
fever  came.  I  understood  it  all  in  a  flash,  when  she 
begged  me  to  go  and  get  Max  to  marry  her  for  baby's 
sake.  I  remembered  how  you  went  to  the  city  and 
brought  home  a  cousin's  baby.  I  remembered  how  you 
stuck  to  it,  and  all.  Oh,  I  have  been  fighting  this  thing 
out  all  alone.  It's  been  a  hard  fight,  but  I've  come 
out  clear.  It  wasn't  business  up  to  Hardup,  it  was 
a  fight  with  my  conscience.  Hulda,  poor  girl,  every 
body  up  there  thinks  Nonie  is  your  child.  Now  this 
thing  has  got  to  be  righted.  I  don't  mean  to  harm 
Cis,  she's  my  wife,  but  the  truth  must  come  out. 
Enough  harm  has  been  done.  You  needn't  think  it 
isn't  hard  for  me,  it's  like  death,  but  I'm  not  going 
to  live  a  lie,  or  see  you  and  Cis  do  it  either." 

"Oh,  David,  my  brother,"  murmured  the  girl.  He 
put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew  her  against  his 
warm  shoulder. 

"Now,  this  is  what  I  am  going  to  say,  Hulda.  I 
want  to  know'the  truth  of  this,  and  all  of  it,  not  one 
word  shall  be  held  back.  Cis  must  out  with  the 
truth,  and  go  back  to  Hardup  and  clear  you,  and  live 
it  down.  If  she  refuses,  she  can  have  the  Beverly 
farm  and  Nonie,  but  my  boy  and  I  go,  and  a  long 
way,  too." 

"Oh,  Dave,  you  will  kill  her." 


362  DAVID  OF  JUNIPER  GULCH 

"Well,  I  guess  not.  Didn't  she  bear  it  in  the  first 
place?  And  isn't  it  harder  to  carry  the  secret  in  her 
heart  than  to  tell  the  truth?  I  know  she  was  an  ig- 
norant, wronged  girl.  But  your  help,  whatever  it 
was,  saved  her,  and  got  her  a  husband.  I'll  be  good 
to  her,  don't  fear.  Now,  Hulda,  I  want  to  hear  all 
you  know  about  it." 

She  shivered  and  sighed. 

"Oh,  I  know  you're  cold,"  he  said,  "but  I  want  to 
hear  your  story  first.  We  will  go  to  the  house  and 
get  your  wrap  and  my  overcoat  and  hat.  I  will  tell 
Cis  I  have  met  a  friend.  I  want  to  hear  this  thing 
though  now.  Understand,  if  you  don't  tell  me,  it 
will  be  the  worse  for  Cis  and  you  too." 

A  little  later  they  were  walking  back  and  forth  un- 
der the  Convent  wall,  and  David  wrung  from  her  the 
whole  miserable  story,  even  Cis  Beverly's  confession 
to  her.  David's  mind  took  it  all  in  with  a  clear 
grasp. 

"And  that  black  villain,  where  is  he  now?" 

"Don't  make  a  scandal,  Dave,  and  get  us  all  into 
trouble,"  she  pleaded. 

"Oh,  no,  I  can  do  better  than  that,  if  he's  got  any 
money." 

And  then  she  told  him. 

"In  the  Legislature!     The  devil  take  him.     Ah,  ha!" 

David  walked  on  whistling.      Later  he  said. 

"Hulda,  you  have  done  right  all  through.  You 
couldn't  do  any  different  after  the  stand  your  mother 
took.  But  now  it's  my  affair,  not  yours.  Now  I'm 
going  home." 


DR.   WELCOME  MAKES  A  PROFESSIONAL  STATEMENT    363 

He  turned  down  towards  the  business  streets,  not 
towards  home. 

"Hulda,  I'm  going  to  put  you  in  a  hack  and  send 
you  down  to  Buck's  to-night.  Will  you  go?  I  want 
to  settle  this  affair  with  Cis.  I  love  her,  and  she 
loves  me,  thank  God.  I  want  to  be  alone  with  her 
to-night." 

"Oh,  David,  be  kind."  Hulda,  hanging  heavily  on 
his  arm,  was  weeping  quietly. 

David  found  a  hackman  he  knew,  put  the  trem- 
bling girl  in  the  carriage,  and  hurried  home.  There  he 
took  his  pale  wife  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  many  times 
on  cheek  and  brow,  and  told  her  that  he  loved  her 
before  all  the  world,  and  that  he  would  protect  and 
cherish  her  forever.  Then  he  told  her  gently  and 
lovingly,  what  he  had  come  to  know  through  her 
fever  and  through  Dr.  Welcome. 

There  was  only  one  thing  poor  Cis,  with  her  short 
mental  vision,  had  ever  feared, that  was,  that  she  might 
lose  David.  Now  she  knew,  that  whatever  happened, 
she  would  not  lose  him,  and  when  she  had  agreed  to 
do  everything  that  David  demanded,  she  begged  to 
be  put  to  bed,  and  she  slept  the  untroubled  sleep  of 
a  wearied  child. 

When  Hulda  came  in  the  morning  Cis  was  quite 
calm.  She  caught  her  hand  and  drew  her  down  to 
the  lounge  where  she  was  lying  in  her  room. 

"Hulda,"  she  said,  "I  never  knew  a  word  what 
people  said  about  you  till  last  night  when  David  told 
me.  I  didn't  know  that  your  reputation  suffered. 
Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,  Hulda.  But  what  you  did  saved 


364  33AVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

me,  Hulda,  if  you  hadn't  protected  me  when  I  came 
back  to  Hardup,  I  would  have  been  lost.  Oh;  wasn't 
your  mother  good?  Oh,  I  did  love  her  Hulda,  and 
that  was  what  gave  me  a  heart  again." 

"Oh,  my  mother."  And  Hulda  sobbed  helplessly, 
till  David's  boy  roused  them  to  active  life,  and  its 
new  responsibilities. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DAVID'S  LAWYER. 

Edward  Markham  or,  Edward  La  Grange,  as  he 
still  signed  himself  in  his  private  and  public  cor- 
respondence, was  as  busy  as  he  liked  to  be  during  the 
closing  days  of  the  Extra  Session.  For  his  mother's 
sake,  however,  he  was  looking  forward  to  the  end, 
for  she  was  so  restive  with  the  slightest  separation. 
What  with  the  attention  he  had  to  give  her,  and  his 
duties  beside,  he  seldom  had  a  moment  to  himself. 

One  such  moment  came  to  him,  however,  one  even- 
ing, in  the  blue  room  of  the  Markham  mansion.  He 
had  just  sent  away  his  clerk;  his  mother  had  retired 
early,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  he  snatched  up  his  old 
volume  of  Shakespeare,  threw  himself  back  in  his 
easy  chair,  and  turned  the  pages  from  pencil  mark 
to  pencil  mark.  He  was  in  a  mood  for  his  favorite 
passages  only.  He  was  just  smiling  over  King  Henry 
and  Kate,  when  the  bell  rang,  and  steps  began  to 
climb  the  stairs.  Satsuma  pushed  open  the  door. 

"All  right,  Satsuma,  and  don't  let  any  one  else  in 
to-night,  please  "  said  the  young  Assemblyman,  clos- 
ing his  book. 

"Why,  hello,  Strong!  This  is  a  treat.  I'm  glad 
to  see  you.  Come  in, come  in.  Have  a  seat." 

365 


366  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

David  gave  him  his  hand  gravely,  and    sat    down. 

"I  suppose  this  call  is  merely  complimentary  and 
social,"  continued  La  Grange.  "Why  didn't  you 
come  around  before?" 

"No,  you're  wrong,"  answered  David,  tossing  his 
hat  into  a  corner.  "It's  pure  business." 

"What.  Somebody  after  the  Juniper?  We'll  see 
about  that.  I'm  your  man." 

"No."  And  David's  manner  was  so  serious  that  La 
Grange  rolled  his  easy  chair  away,  moved  an  office 
chair  to  his  desk,  and  sat  down  in  an  attentive  posi- 
tion. 

"I've  got  a  little  case  for  you,  if  you'll  take  it." 

"All  right,  out  with  it." 

"Well,  it's  just  about  like  this—"  David  hesitated, 
but  the  battle  had  been  fought  and  he  had  won. 
"Suppose — suppose  that  a  girl  had  been  betrayed  un- 
der promise  of  marriage,  had  a  child  and  covered  it 
up.  Then  after  some  years  she  concludes  she  wants 
satisfaction  or  damages  for  herself  and  child,  what 
could  she  do?" 

La  Grange  ran  his  ringers  through  his  hair,  and 
looked  thoughtful  and  distressed. 

"What  are  her  proofs  and  witnesses?  Are  they 
good?" 

"First  class,  and  the  parties  all  here  in  Sacra- 
mento." 

"Compromise,  compromise,  pay  up,"  said  La 
Grange,  nervously. 

"Yes,  but  how  do  you  make  him  do  it?"  asked 
David,  earnestly. 


DAVID'S  LAWYER  367 

La  Grange  rose  and  paced  the  floor,  his  hands  in 
his  pockets. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Strong,  why  don't  you  go  to 
some  older  lawyer.  I  am  hardly  competent  to  con- 
duct a  defense  of  that  kind.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but 
you'd  better  pay  up  with  the  first  move:" 

David  only  turned  around  and  faced  him  savagely. 

"There,  you're  a  fool.  Do  you  think  I'm  on  the 
defensive?  Sit  down  here  and  talk.  I  want  to 
prosecute." 

The  young  man  sat  down  and  drummed  on  the 
table. 

"But  why  has  this  case,  this  prosecution,  been 
postponed  all  these  years?" 

"Because  the  woman  is  just  ready  to  confess,  and 
I  want  support  for  the  child." 

"Oh,  but  as  I  said,  some  older  lawyer — " 

"But  we  want  you,"  urged  David,  "we  want  you  to 
know  all  about  it,  to  help  right  the  wrong.  She  wants 
you." 

La  Grange  was  again  on  his  feet,  with  a  flushed 
and  almost  angry  face. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Strong,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  take 
the  case.  Why  I  had  perfect  confidence  in  that  girl. 
I  couldn't  believe  it  till  I  was  forced  to,  here  lately. 
The  subject  is  horrible.  Don't  force  it  upon  me, 
Strong." 

It  was  hard.  David  sat  rigid,  his  hands  clenched 
on  the  rounds  of  his  chair.  But  the  truth  had  to 
come.  His  voice  was  broken. 

"Do  you  know  what  woman  I  am   talking  about?" 


368  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER   GULCH 

"The  widow  Hardy's  daughter." 

La  Grange  spoke  with  averted  face  and  hesitating 
voice. 

"No,  La  Grange,  it  is  my  wife,  the  Beverly  girl. 
The  child  was— hers." 

La  Grange  sprang  up,  backed  away  from  the  table, 
and  out  of  the  glare  of  the  light.  He  stood  staring  at 
David.  David  dropped  his  head  on  one  hand,  with 
face  half  averted,  and  went  on: 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  it  now.  Hulda  Hardy  sac- 
rificed herself,  but  she  was  led  into  it  little  at  a  time, 
and  couldn't  help  it.  Mrs.  Hardy  wanted  to  protect 
Cis  Beverly,  and  when  she  died  she  made  Hulda 
promise  to  do  the  same  and  she  didn't  know  what 
the  consequences  would  be.  Poor  Hulda  has  been 
tormented  to^death.  She  told  me  about  telling  Mrs. 
Cornman,  but  she  said  Mrs.  Cornman  accused  her, 
and  bullied  her  into  it.  Well,  what's  the  matter  of 
you?" 

La  Grange  had  sunk  into  his  chair  with  a  sound 
like  a  moan. 

"Strong,  shoot,  and  begin  on  me,"  he  muttered. 

"What  have  you  done?     How  are  you  in  it?" 

"In  it?"  he  cried,  looking  up  wildly.  "Why  I  let 
that  girl  leave  her  school  and  her  home  without  lift- 
ing a  hand  in  her  defence.  When  you  married  I  saw 
her.  reputation  blackened  and  kept  still,  when  I  ought 
to  have  known  her  heart  was  white  as  snow.  I  have 
even  turned  my  mother  against  her,  Strong.  Kill  me 
— me:1 

David  rose  and  came  and  put  his  hand   firmly    on 


He  stood  glaring  at  David." 


David  of  Juniper  Gulch 


DAVID'S  LAWYER  369 

the  bowed  shoulder.  "Why  La  Grange,  I  never 
knew  there  was  anything  between  you  two.  You 
act  as  if  you  might  have  been  in  love  with  her. " 

"I  was,  Dave,  I  was  always,  but  it  was  a  coward's 
love.  She  was  inclined  to  be  punctilious,  I  rebelled. 
Then  she  cut  me  at  her  mother's  funeral,  and  because 
my  feelings  were  hurt,  I  let  that  old  Cornman  shrug 
his  shoulders  and  shut  his  mouth  till  I  lost  my  head. 
And  the  proof  was  all  against  her.  Strong,  take  me 
out  on  the  street  and  beat  me." 

A  bit  of  David's  old  humor  came  to  the  relief  of 
both. 

"I'll  tell  you  who'll  do  it,  if  he  ever  finds  it  out, 
Hicks  the  stage  driver.  He's  never  got  his  wrath 
boiled  down  yet.  Cornman's  in  for  a  good  one.  I'm 
going  to  set  Hicks  on  him." 

La  Grange  smiled. 

"La  Grange,  I  just  found  all  this  out.  I've  been 
around  the  Assembly  all  day  getting  my  points.  Let 
me  tell  you  the  whole  thing." 

"Heavens!  No!  Not  in  this  house,  where  I  com- 
mitted the  last  and  foulest  crime  against  that  suffer- 
ing girl.  Come  out  on  the  street,  Strong.  I  must 
have  air,  air — I  am  stifled." 

The  two  men,  brothers  now  in  spirit,  went  down 
the  stairs  softly,  and  sat  till  near  morning  in  a  room 
in  a  J.  Street  Hotel.  But  David's  lawyer  was  firm 
on  one  point.  He  wanted  to  make  all  the  plans  him- 
self, and  if  a  case  at  law  was  determined  on,  to  have 
the  privilege  of  conducting  it  in  his  own  way,  with 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    24 


370  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

the  privilege  of  any  kind  of  an  alternative  that  would 
answer  the  purpose. 

It  was  only  a  coincidence,  but  it  came  providen- 
tially. 

The  next  morning  when  La  Grange  alighted  from 
the  carriage  at  the  Capitol,  with  his  mother,  an  elderly 
stranger  approached  him,  lifting  his  hat  respectfully. 
La  Grange  would  have  passed  by,  but  his  first  words 
arrested  him. 

"Mr.  Dorms  sent  me,  sir,  I  want  a  .lawyer.  I 
have  a  case." 

"Can't  you  wait  a  week?  I  am  very  busy,"  he 
said  kindly. 

"No,  sir,  my  man  will  get  away,  as  soon  as  you 
adjourn — it's  Assemblyman  Royse,  sir." 

"Eh?"  exclaimed  the  young  lawyer.  "Come  to  my 
house  at  seven  to-night.  Here's  the  address. 

And  Millie's  boarder  took  the  card,  bowed  and 
turned  away. 

La  Grange,  as  miserable  as  he  might  feel,  could  do 
nothing  but  go  on  with  his  own  work.  He  speedily 
informed  his  mother,  however,  the  next  morning, 
with  appropriate  personal  apologies,  of  the  mistake 
Mrs.  and  Mr.  Cornman  had  made  in  regard  to  the 
young  lady  who  had  been  her  companion  for  so  long. 
In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Markham  took  the  carriage 
and  went  to  Strong's  house;  Hulda  ran  out  and 
kissed  and  embraced  her  warmly.  Despite  the  great 
distance  that  would  now  separate  them,  she  loved  her. 

"Oh,  come  home,  Dacie,"  Mrs.  Markham  pleaded. 
"We'll  be  such  a  happy  family  together.  You'll  like 


DAVID'S  LAWYER  371 

Edward  when  you  know  him,  and  he  can't  be  with 
me  all  the  time  on  account  of  his  tedious  cases.  I 
want  somebody  to  talk  to  me  about  him  when  he  is 
away.  Do  come  home," 

Hulda  was  so  sorry,  but  poor  little  Willie  was  to 
have  his  final  operation,  and  she  had  promised  to  be 
there.  She  would  come  after  that.  Hulda  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  her  to  go  away,  believing  that  some 
time  "her  Dacie"  might  return.  She  knew  no  reason 
why  she  should  not. 

But  Hulda  went   to  the   Markham   mansion    when 
she  knew  there  would  be  no  one  there  but   Satsuma, 
and  brought  away  her  paintbox  and    a    few    dresses. 
David  had  come  with  her  without  a  word,  when    she 
had  asked  him  to  carry  them  for  her. 

Her  heart  longed  now  for  Hardup,  and  her  own 
home,  since  David  and  Cis  were  to  make  things  all 
right;  and  there  she  would  go  first— to  see  her  trees 
all  in  blossom,  and  to  visit  her  mother's  grave;  to 
look  all  her  childhood  friends  in  the  face,  and  feel 
that  her  name  was  unblemished — that  was  her  first 
desire,  her  now  eager  hope. 

David  had  said  no  more  about  the  doctor's  revela- 
tion. Whatever  his  pain  was,  he  bore  it  alone,  and 
studied  in  every  way  the  happiness  of  his  wife  and 
Hulda.  He  said  he  was  waiting  for  some  business 
matters  to  be  settled  in  Sacramento,  before  they  could 
go  to  Hardup.  But  Hulda  had  determined  not  to  go 
till  Willis's  last  peril  was  past.  The  doctor  was  sure 
another  operation  would  complete  the  cure  of  the 
leg,  and  Hulda  could  not  forsake  Millie  till  it  was  all 
over. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

FESTIVITIES  AT  THE  IMPERIAL. 

Meanwhile  David  and  La  Grange  were  alert, 
awake,  active,  and  laying  their  plans  deep  and  well. 
They  knew  every  move  and  plan  of  the  rather  garru- 
lous Max  Royse,  Assemblyman. 

They  knew,  that  a  little  occasion  of  festivity  was 
being  arranged,  for  an  evening  in  the  week  before  ad- 
journment; and  La  Grange  had  even  been  so  agree- 
able to  Mrs.  Ellis  in  the  lobby,  that  he  felt  sure  of 
an  invitation  to  the  "quiet  little  affair." 

He  smiled  grimly  when  he  found  it  on  his  desk  at 
the  Assembly  Chamber  one  morning,  a  dainty  little 
favor  in  printed  script  with  embossed  doves  "and  the 
pleasure  of  his  company,"  to  the  wedding  ceremony 
of  Mrs.  Minerva  Ellis  and  Maxwell  Royse,  Assembly- 
man from  San  Francisco. 

"Doves,  indeed!"  he  said  sotto  voce,  contempt- 
uously. "But  I  think  when  I  get  through  with  them 
they  will  be  pretty  well  plucked." 

He  concluded  to  go  to  that  select  wedding  in  the 
parlors  of  the  Imperial  Hotel,  and  part  of  his  prepara- 
tion was  to  engage  a  small  parlor  in  the  same  build- 
ing to  use  an  hour  or  so  on  that  happy  occasion. 

Max  Royse  had  decided  to    marry    Mrs.  Ellis,  be- 
372 


FEST1VITIVES  AT  THE   IMPERIAL  373 

cause  she  had  become  so  useful  to  him,  that  it  seemed 
to  be  the  best  thing  to  do.  As  he  rose  in  political 
influence  he  needed  more  and  more  a  wife  to  preside 
over  his  hospitalities  in  just  the  right  kind  of  style. 
He  had  given  her  a  thorough  test,  and  she  was  more 
than  equal  to  the  demands.  And  then,  ever  since 
his  wife  died,  he  had  wanted  to  marry  her,  if  her 
social  position  could  be  made  to  bear  the  strain. 
She  had  made  a  better  impression  on  the  carpets  of 
the  Capitol  Building  than  he  had.  There  was  no 
use  waiting.  He  would  marry  her  then  and  there, 
and  his  San  Francisco  gang  would  have  to  approve  a 
match  that  half  the  Assembly  had  congratulated  him 
upon. 

The  arrangements  were  without  flaw,  as  an  affair 
at  the  Legislature  should  be.  There  was  to  be  a 
reception  in  the  parlor,  a  minister  from  some  little 
church  around  the  corner,  and  later,  a  champagne 
supper  in  their  private  rooms,  to  the  more  select  and 
especially  favored  of  the  guests.  The  quality  of  the 
champagne  was  to  be  a  distinguishing  feature  of  this 
latter  entertainment,  and  gentlemen  guests  were  to 
predominate.  The  lobby  was  to  be  well  represented 
at  the  festivities. 

On  the  auspicious  evening,  all  the  preliminaries 
went  well,  with  the  exception  of  a  little  revolt  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Ellis  just  before  dinner,  when  the  maids 
and  workmen  were  already  changing  her  parlor  and 
bedroom  into  a  banqueting  room.  It  was  the  dia- 
monds Royse  had  brought  up.  They  had  agreed  on 
far  better  stones,  and  Max  was  showing  up  a  little  of 


374  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

his  old  tricks  in  bringing    what    he    did.      They    had 
agreed  to  be  honest  with  each  other. 

A  compromise  .was  affected  after  a  subdued  conflict 
of  will  power,  and  the  maid  employed  for  the  occasion 
went  to  the  dress-maker's  for  the  reception  dress.  It 
was  a  magnificent  object  laid  out  in  the  dressing- 
room,  brown  rep  silk,  glittering  with  passamenterie. 

Very  few  of  the  guests  cared  who  was  to  be  married, 
or  what  they  were  to  be  married  for.  It  was  a  good 
place  to  spend  an  hour  or  two,  and  they  were  assured 
of  something  appropriate  in  the  line  of  refreshments. 
They  could  see  each  other  in  dress  parade,  and  score 
one  more  festive  occasion  for  the  season. 

About  nine  o'clock  they  came  thronging  into  the 
handsome  parlors  of  the  Imperial  Hotel.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  one  in  particular  to  whom  to  pay 
the  compliments  of  the  evening,  so  they  turned  their 
attention  to  amusing  themselves.  Royse  and  Mrs. 
Ellis  moved  about  with  no  formality,  but  kept  up  a 
round  of  promiscuous  introductions,  and  saw  that  the 
young  men  who  had  been  employed  to  play  the  piano 
and  sing  a  few  popular  ballads  appeared  at  proper  in- 
tervals. 

La  Grange  was  there  and  moved  about  making  him 
self  freely  agreeable.  He  had  changed  his  invitation 
somewhat,  so  as  to  include  his  friend  Strong.  His 
principles  had  not  reached  such  a  high  point  of  out- 
look, but  that  he  could  commit  this  little  forgery. 
His  host  and  hostess  in  fact  were  pleased  that  such  a 
guest  should  bring  a  friend.  David  found  the  corners 
the  most  agreeable  to  him.  He  looked  extremely 


FESTIVITIES    AT    THE    IMPERIAL  375 

well,  La  Grange  had  told  him,  in  his  new  dress  suit 
with  a  waxed  mustache  and  a  barber's  finish  to  his 
glossy  hair.  He  suffered  a  little  with  his  gloves,  but 
he  kept  his  eyes  on  the  tall  form  of  La  Grange,  as 
the  latter  moved  about,  telling  a  story  to  one  group, 
and  drawing  another  together  by  his  happy  manners' 
and  quick  wit. 

After  a  while,  David  saw  that  there  was  a  little 
hush,  and  a  tall  man  with  a  book  was  elbowing  his 
way  to  one  corner,  and  almost  before  any  one  knew 
it  the  little  ceremony  was  over,  and  the  people  were 
moving  around  to  congratulate  the  newly  married 
couple.  Then  the  crowd  began  to  thin  out,  La  Grange 
came  for  hiro,  .and  David  soon  found  himself  at  the 
door  of  a  room  where  a  table  was  spread  with  a  most 
tempting  collation,  and  for  a  moment  he  forgot  his 
real  purpose  and  work  there,  and  would  have  liked 
to  have  slipped  into  a  seat  in  front  of  one  of  the  tall, 
shining,  perfunctory,  darky  waiters. 

But  La  Grange  was  coming  towards  him  with  As- 
semblyman Royse  on  his  arm. 

"You  will  excuse  me,"  La  Grange  was  saying,  for 
interrupting  your  program  just  a  moment,  "but  some 
of  your  friends — " 

David  almost  staggered,  "Friends!" 

" — have  arranged  a  little  surprise  for  you,  and  wish 
to  see  you  for  a  moment  in  another  room."  Royse 
was  agreeable  to  anything.  His  imagination  pictured 
at  once  a  gold-headed  cane  in  hand  of  a  committee 
and  with  appropriate  speech  making. 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "most  agreeable.  And,  my 
wife,  does  she  come  too?" 


37^  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Well,  no,  not  just  yet.  .  We  will  send  for  her  a 
little  later,"  La  Grange  said,  pushing  on. 

David  followed,  indulging  in  a  broad  grin  and  a 
grimace  behind  their  backs,  but  his  nerve  was  unre- 
laxed,  and  his  hands  were  under  his  coat  tails  ascer- 
taining the  exact  location  of  a  little  nickle-plated  re- 
volver. 

Royse  followed  La  Grange  into  an  open  door  way, 
and  what  surprised  him  first  was  the  instant  closing 
of  the  door  behind  him.  He  turned  with  a  nervous 
start,  and  his  surprise  deepened  into  amazement  to 
see  three  men  standing  against  the  door,  and  a  tier 
of  pistols,  three  in  all,  bristled  before  his  eyes.  The 
first  man  was  David  with  a  triumphant  glitter  in  his 
eye,  the  second  was  Buck  Dorms,  and  the  third  was 
Millie's  boarder  with  a  handkerchief-mask  over  his 
face,  from  which  two  steady  gray  eyes  looked  out. 

"The  devil.     What's  this?" 

La  Grange  touched  his  arm.  There  was  a  glitter 
in  his  eye  too,  and  he  looked  as  if  he,  too,  might 
produce  a  weapon  at  any  moment. 

"You  are  to  sit  down  in  this  chair,  please,  Mr. 
Royse,  we  have  a  little  business  with  you,  and  we 
want  to  get  through  with  it  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Royse  had  recognized  Buck,  and  he  thought  he 
knew  what  it  was  all  about. 

"It's  a  devilish  trick,"  he  said,  growing  angry,  "but 
you  daresent  hurt  me."  But  he  sat  down  in  the  arm 
chair  near  the  table,  and  in  doing  so  he  came  face 
to  face  with  a  slim  young  woman  sitting  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table  with  a  child  in  her  lap.  She  was- 


FESTIVITIES    AT    THE    IMPERIAL  377 

veiled,  but  he  recognized  instantly  the  girl  he  had  once 
brought  to  the  door  of  ruin.  A  cold  desperate  look 
came  into  his  face,  and  he  turned  to  La  Grange. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  do  with 
this  confounded  trap?  Whatever  it  is,  hurry  up." 

"We  are  willing  to  accommodate  you,"  said  La 
Grange,  sitting  down  leisurely,  and  assuming  a  busi- 
ness-like attitude.  "Do  you  recognize  this  lady 
here?"  Royse  looked  at  the  table. 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  I  do,  sir.  I  want 
to  get  out  of  this  room — this  is  no  time  or  place— 

"Hold,"  interrupted  La  Grange.  "Then  I  will 
simply  state  that  this  lady  whom  you  know  very  well, 
is  prepared  to  institute  suit  against  you  for  the  main- 
tenance of  this  child,  with  the  lady  you  have  made 
your  wife  this  evening,  as  the  principal  witness,  and 
a  young  lady  of  Hardup,  Miss  Hardy  by  name,  as 
another.  We  simply  give  you  a  chance  to  com- 
promise here  and  now." 

Royse  was  staring  at  the  pale  little  girl  lying  with 
closed  eyes  against  her  mother's  shoulder.  Then 
with  an  angry  face  he  partly  rose  from  his  chair. 

"Why  don't  you  commence  suit  then?  This  is 
only  a  bluff.  You  haven't  got  any  suit.  Let  me 
out  of  this  room  or  I' 11s  see  you  all  in  jail  to-morrow." 

But  David's  hand  lay  so  heavily  on  his  shoulder 
he  sat  down  with  a  cowed  look. 

"Very  well,"  continued  the  lawyer,  looking  at  him 
composedly,  "if  you  don't  want  to  settle  that,  how 
would  you  like  a  criminal  suit?  We  propose  to-mor- 
row to  arrest  you  for  shanghying  one  John  Ellis." 


DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

Royse  grasped  the  arm  of  his  chair  convulsively ; 
then  with  staring  eyes  and  writhing  features,  a  per- 
fect demon  of  guilt,  he  tried  to  get  up  to  his  feet. 
Then  he  burst  into  a  hoarse  laugh. 

"John  Ellis  is  dead.      I  can  prove  it." 

"Oh,  no,  I'm  not."  Millie's  boarder  had  dropped 
his  mask  and  stepped  forward. 

Max  Royse,  Assemblyman,  took  a  wild  look  for  a 
window,  but  Dorms  guarded  the  approach  to  the 
only  one.  He  was  trembling  now,  and  grew  so  pale 
that  La  Grange  feared  a  physical  collapse.  But  he 
was  looking  at  him  with  the  calmness  of  a  jailer  at 
his  prisoner  behind  the  bars. 

"And  I  suppose  you  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble 
for  marrying  another  man's  wife,"  he  continued,  "es- 
pecially before  the  adjournment  of  the  Legislature." 

Royse  was  primarily  a  coward  and  he  feared  John 
Ellis,  and  more  because  he  saw  at  one  glance,  that 
the  Ellis  who  stood  before  him,  with  that  same  de- 
termined expression,  was  more  of  a  man  to  be  known 
or  feared,  than  the  worthless  drunken  old  Ellis,  he 
had  rid  the  lodging  house  of,  four  years  previously. 
But  Royse  had  been  in  a  good  many  tight  places,  as 
he  called  them,  and  he  was  rapidly  summing  up  his 
best  way  of  escape  as  he  sat  there  recovering  his 
physical  and  mental  balance.  But  reflection  showed 
him  clearly  the  peril  of  the  present  situation  to  his 
entire  social  and  political  plans,  plans  which  were  in 
the  end  purely  financial  ones.  He  turned  suddenly 
to  Ellis. 

"See  here,  old  man,  what  do  you  want?" 


FESTIVITIES    AT    THE    IMPERIAL  37Q 

"Well, "answered  Ellis,  whose  satisfied  looks  belied 
any  complaint  of  injury,  "I  don't  know  as  I've  any- 
thing against  you.  You  really  done  me  a  favor.  I 
had  a  chance  to  cure  myself  of  being  a  drunken  fool, 
and  everybody  knows  there  was  nothing  else  bad 
about  old  Ellis.  But  I  had  an  ownership  in  that  lodg- 
ing house,  and  a  man's  wife  is  worth  something. 
And  I've  got  more  or  less  interest  in  this  little  woman 
and  the  bit  of  a  girl  there,  and  I  guess  you'll  have  to 
settle  with  them  first,  or  else  I'm  going  in  to  that 
banquet  there  and  have  a  little  chat  with  my  wife." 

Royse  brought  his  hand  violently  down  on  the 
table. 

"See  here,  La  Grange,"  he  cried,  "as  long  as  this 
is  a  matter  of  compromise,  suppose  you  let  me  out  of 
this  for  an  hour  till  I  can  get  rid  of  that  crowd  in 
good  shape;  then  we'll  come  in  here  and  fix  it  up." 

La  Grange  sprang  to  his  feet.  "That  suits  us," 
he  said,  "Strong  and  I  are  your  guests  and  we  will 
answer  for  your  safe  return.  My  clients  will  wait 
here." 

Royse  paused  long  enough  to  smooth  his  ruffled 
hair,  and  he  went  out  with  his  two  very  attentive 
guests  close  behind  him. 

The  little  awkward  wait  just  before  the  supper  did 
not  materially  disturb  the  wedding  festivities.  The 
daily  press  the  next  day  had  neat  little  notices  of  the 
hospitable  affair.  The  fact  that  the  bride  went  to  San 
Francisco  alone  on  the  early  morning  train,  did  not 
become  known  outside  of  the  employes  at  the  Im- 
perial Hotel,  and  the  fact  that  there  was  no  marriage 


3O  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

license  recorded  did  not  come  to  the  notice  of  any 
one  in  particular,  in  the  rush  and  excitement  incident 
to  the  closing  days  of  the  Legislature. 


C1HAPTER  XXXI. 

WILLIE. 

The  next  morning  Hulda  grew  wearied  waiting  for 
some  one  to  stir  in  the  Strong  household.  David 
had  taken  his  wife  and  little  Nonie,  and  gone  out  the 
previous  evening,  and  Hulda,  seeing  that  the  hired  girl 
was  competent  to  take  care  of  David's  boy,  had  gone 
to  her  room,  and  from  pure  loneliness,  had  restored 
a  bit  of  color  to  her  cheeks  by  a  long  night's  sleep. 

Not  caring  to  disturb  her  friends  in  the  morning, 
she  put  on  her  cloak  and  hat  and  went  out  to  walk 
back  and  forth  under  the  Convent  wall.  It  was  a 
little  misty  as  if  it  might  rain,  but  the  March  air  was 
warm  and  sweet,  and  the  long  grass  rolled  in  dewy 
billows  each  side  of  her  path. 

A  sense  of  loneliness  and  aimlessness  was  growing 
over  her.  Her  heart  was  rilled  with  longing  for  her 
girlhood  home,  and  the  associations  that  were  to  be 
renewed,  just  as  they  had  been  shut  off  at  the  death 
of  her  mother,  and  which  would  fill  her  life  again 
with  memories,  that  would  seem  to  restore  that 
mother  to  her.  Any  way  her  mother's  spirit  could 
now  come  back  to  the  old  cottage,  and  Hulda  thought 
of  the  experience  she  now  possessed,  through  which 
she  could  dispense  kind  ministrations  in  the  name  of 
that  good,  unobtrusive,  true-hearted  mother, 

381 


382  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

The  Graceways  were  gone,  but  there  would  be 
another  good  pastor  whom  she  could  aid,  perhaps, 
by  her  accomplishments  and  friendly  offices. 

But  with  all  these  longings  there  came  a  crushing 
knowledge  of  a  present  privation,  of  which  she.  was 
most  conscious  since  David  and  Cis  had  passed 
through  their  crisis,  and  now  needed  her  no  more. 
She  missed  the  aesthetic  comforts  of  the  Markham 
house,  and  the  presence  of  the  sweet  little  lady  to 
whom  she  had  ministered  so  long.  How  she  would 
like  to  caress  again  those  soft  silver  waves  of  hair, 
and  sit  reading  to  her  the  books  for  which  those  good 
dear  Hardup  friends  had  no  taste.  But  she  had  no 
thought  of  crossing  the  Markham  threshold.  The 
chasm  was  too  wide,  and  pride  would  keep  her  hand 
from  any  act  to  bridge  it. 

Walking  back  and  forth  thinking  of  these  things, 
the  linnets  singing  and  twittering  at  their  nest-build- 
ing over  her  head,  she  raised  her  eyes  to  see  David 
coming  towards  her,  smiling  in  his  good-natured  way, 
and  taking  long  swinging  strides.  David  seemed  to 
be  in  one  of  his  old  jolly  humors,  and  she  was  glad. 

"Hulda,  little  sister,"  he  said,  taking  her  arm  and 
dropping  down  to  her  slow  pace,  "coffee  is  nearly 
ready,  and  you  look  as  if  you  needed  it — you  look 
too  pale  lately.  I  don't  like  that.  I'm  going  to 
take  you  up  to  the  Juniper  Mine  and  put  you  to  tend- 
ing ditch.  I  think  that  will  warm  your  blood  up 
again. " 

She  laughed  softly.  "Yes,  David,  I'll  tend  ditch 
for  you,  and  clean  up  the  sluice  boxes.  When  are 
we  going?" 


WILLIE  383 

"Right  off,"  he  cried,  triumphantly,  "and  I've  come 
out  here  to  tell  you  the  news.  Well,  I've  been  put- 
ting a  first  class  lawyer  on  the  track  of  that  old 
villain,  and  we  corraled  him  in  the  Imperial  Hotel  last 
night  just  after  he'd  been  married  to  his  beautiful  Mrs. 
Ellis.  But  Millie's  boarder  happens  to  be  Mr.  Ellis 
himself,  you  know,  so  we  had  him  just  where  we 
wanted  him.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  after  breakfast. 
I'll  only  tell  you  the  sequel  now.  The  old  rascal 
was  completely  squelched,  and  my  lawyer  brought 
him  to  terms  pretty  quick.  The  papers  are  all  to  be 
fixed  up  to-day.  He  makes  out  regular  papers  of 
adoption  for  Nonie  Royse,  but  I  am  to  be  made  her 
legal  guardian,  with  six  thousand  dollars  banked  with 
me  for  her  past  maintenance  and  further  support. 
Besides  she  is  to  come  in  for  something  when  she  is 
eighteen.  Ellis,  who  was  shanghied  by  him  on  the 
whaler,  instead  of  starting  a  criminal  suit  for  ab- 
duction, gets  three  thousand  dollars  and  a  good  mine 
at  Forest  Grove.  How's  that,  Hulda?  Royse  was 
pretty  good  natured  about  it  at  the  end,  too.  He 
said  he  was  paying  dear  for  reforming  and  going  into 
politics,  but  he  guessed  he  could  stand  it.  He  act- 
ually took  up  with  little  Nonie,  wanted  to  take  her  and 
kiss  her,  said  she  was  as  pretty  as  his  other  little  girl 
in  San  Francisco;  but  Cis  wouldn't  let  him  touch 
the  little  one. 

Hulda  stood  looking  at  him,  her  round  eyes  full  of 
surprise  and  wonder. 

"But,  Mr.  Ellis  and  his  false  wife?" 

"Oh,  he's  to  have  a   divorce   privately   obtained, 


384  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

and  the  whole  thing  is  to  be  smoothed  over.  Now 
what  do  you  think  of  my  lawyer?" 

"David,  he  must  be  a  grand  manager.  He  has 
done  well.  Who  is  he?" 

"Oh,  a  fellow  name  Edward  La  Grange  Markham. 
Know  him,  little  sister?"  He  was  pressing  her  arm, 
smiling  down  upon  her. 

"Oh,  we  all  know  he  has  talent,"  she  said,  increas- 
ing her  steps. 

"Yes,  he  gets  five  hundred  dollars  from  both 
clients,  Ellis,  and  Nonie's  guardian.  Oh,  I  forgot 
to  tell  you,  Hulda.  I  am  going  to  turn  over  eight 
hundred  dollars  to  you  for  Nonie.'s  first  year's  sup- 
port." 

"Who  arranged  that?"  she  cried. 

"Oh,  that  was  my  put  in." 

"I  won't  take  it." 

"Oh,  yes  you  will.  You're  simple  if  you  don't. 
You'll  need  it,  and  you  earned  it.  I  want  to  see  you 
put  out  more  fruit  trees  on  your  place." 

Hulda  was  silent.  She  had  earned  the  money, 
and  it  would  come  just  right,  till  she  could  get  to 
teaching  again.  She  thought  of  the  school  at  Hardup. 
She  could  fit  herself  to  take  that  position.  She 
needn't  go  away  to  Botson  now,  with  everything 
cleared  up  so  well,  and  Hardup  so  dear  to  her  again. 
Then  David  hurried  her  into  the  house  where  Cis 
was  fretting  over  the  delayed  breakfast. 

But  David  was  too  full  of  business  to  dally  much 
over  his  breakfast.  He  took  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
bit  of  toast,  then  brought  in  two  trunks  so  that  the 


WILLIE  385 

packing  could  begin;  gave  orders  that  Cis  and  Nonie 
should  be  all  ready  for  business  when  he  and  his  law- 
yer called  with  a  carriage  for  them  at  twelve  o'clock; 
then  he  was  gone. 

And  Cis  came  to  Hulda,  as  she  had  done  several 
times  in  the  past  two  weeks,  and  wound  her  arms 
around  her  waist  and  nestled  her  head  on  her  shoul- 
der, whispering,  "Oh,  Hulda,  I  am  going  to  tell  them 
all  how  you  saved  me.  David  says  I  must.  I  could 
do  anything  for  David.  Oh,  isn't  he  good,  Hulda?" 

Hulda' s  tears  fell  on  the  fair  head. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know  it  as  well  as  you.  He  is  good, 
always." 

Cis  was  dressing  herself  and  Nonie,  when  Hulda 
came  to  her,  cloaked  and  ready  for  the  street.  1 

"Cis,  I  am  going  to  send  Buck  for  my  things  to- 
night." 

"Why,  Hulda?" 

"You  know  I  promised  to  help  with  Willie,  and 
you  will  be  gone  in  a  day  or  so.  I  will  come  up 
when  Willie  is  better.  You  know  you  and  David  are 
to  stay  at  my  house  for  a  while,  and  I  can  come  any 
time."  Hulda  kissed  her  and  David's  boy  and  hurried 
away.  She  had  no  intention  whatever  of  being  there 
when  David  and  his  wonder-working  lawyer  called 
in  a  carriage. 

Hulda  found  poor  Millie  as  unable  to  meet  the 
shock  of  Willie's  second  operation  as  she  had  been 
at  the  first.  The  younger  child  was  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  and  the  young  mother's  nerves  had  been  per- 
ceptibly weakened  her  by  long  confinement  to  the 

Pavid  of  Juniper  Gulch    a$ 


386  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

house.  She  was  alone.  The  boarder,  she  said,  and 
Buck  had  been  gone  nearly  all  night,  and  part  of  the 
day.  She  knew  that  Buck  was  helping  La  Grange 
about  something  and  was  to  be  well  paid,  but  that 
did  not  lighten  her  cares  any.  She  was  holding  the 
younger  child  and  trying  to  amuse  Willie,  and  at  the 
same  time  there  was  a  rising  of  bread  to  bake,  and 
a  bit  of  the  children's  washing  to  do.  To  have 
Hulda  appear  was  almost  like  having  her  own  mother 
come,  and  she  gladdened  at  once.  With  her  calm- 
voiced,  warm-hearted  Cherry  Valley  school-teacher 
to  furnish  the  nerve  strength,  how  things  began  to 
brighten  up  in  the  plain,  dark  kitchen !  The  tea- 
kettle on  the  stove  began  to  puff  and  sing  and  blow 
clouds  of  steam;  the  baby  stopped  fretting  in  his 
cradle  to  listen  to  it,  and  Millie  began  to  step  briskly 
around  to  put  things  to  rights.  Even  the  sun  came 
out  of  a  cloud  and  smiled  in  at  the  west  window,  and 
his  slanting  rays  fell  on  the  coiled  hair  of  Willie's 
new  nurse,  who  was  herding  quite  a  flock  of  ragged 
woolly  lambs  on  the  edge  of  the  crib,  while  the  pale 
boy's  dark  eyes  shone  with  delight.  He  was  some- 
what tired  of  woolly  lambs  as  objects  of  worship,  but 
to  see  these  decrepit  creatures  skip  around  the  rail- 
ing of  the  crib  and  hop  all  over  his  bed  in  the  white 
hands  of  the"  pitty  lady,"  awakened  all  his  faith  in  the 
capabilities  of  woolly  lambs.  Then,  too,  it  was  a 
great  revivication  of  his  fallen  idols  to  have  the  rub- 
ber soldier  ride  the  tin  horse,  and  that  he  fell  off 
made  him  the  greater  soldier.  He  did  not  note  that 
with  very  fall  of  his  warrior,  the  white  hands  lifted 


WILLIE  387 

him,  before  his  laugh  died  away,  and  that  he  was 
gradually  placed  in  a  new  position  with  his  pillows 
patted  firmer  around  him.  Then  his  blood  flowed 
faster,  and  he  was  contented  to  lie  quiet  again,  hold- 
ing his  hardy  soldier  in  his  thin  little  ringers.  This 
gave  the  "pitty  lady"  a  chance  to  give  the  baby  a 
gentle  trotting  on  her  knee,  and  when  his  blue-veined 
eyelids  had  closed  over  his  little  view  of  the  troubled 
world,  he  was  transferred  to  a  gray  blanket  in  his 
mother's  room.  Hulda  doubled  the  coarse  fabric 
over  him  with  a  shiver,  and  she  realized  that  her  long 
period  of  luxurious  living  with  Mrs.  Markham  had 
unfitted  her  for  the  practical  efforts  that  were  before 
her. 

A  tramping  of  feet  in  the  hall  brought  her  out  with 
a  raised  finger.  But  Buck  and  Millie's  boarder  were 
too  full  of  life  and  hilarity  to  subdue  their  demon- 
strations. Such  an  array  of  new  clothes  and  muddy 
boots!  And  the  boarder  turns  out  to  be  quite  a 
handsome  old  gentleman  with  a  new  business  suit  on, 
and  a  great  grey  overcoat,  with  a  velvet  collar.  And 
the  pockets  of  the  great-coat  were  newly  stocked  with 
lambs  and  horses  and  dogs.  Animals  of  better  blood 
and  pedigree  altogether,  with  the  legs  warranted  to 
stay  on,  and  the  paint  to  shine  forever.  And  the 
packages  heaped  upon  the  table  were  designed  to 
bring  good  cheer  to  the  little  household.  Millie 
opened  them  with  exclamations  of  delight. 

Oysters  in  the  shell!  Oh,  what  extravagance! 
Did  Hulda  know  how  to  fix  raw  oysters?  Buck 
"lowed  she  did,"  and  she  did. 


388  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

She  soon  developed  an  appetite  herself,  showing 
Millie  how  to  prepare  the  oysters,  serve  the  pine- 
apple, and  prepare  other  dainties  that  Millie  had  never 
seen  before.  She  forgot  her  own  thoughts  to  help 
on  the  feeling  of  festivity  in  the  hearts  where  care 
had  lain  so  heavily,  and  talk  with  them  of  their  pros- 
pects for  the  future. 

Ellis  had  already  engaged  Dorms  to  help  him  with 
his  mine,  in  the  spring,  and  Hulda  grew  quite  awed 
to  see  how  much  Buck  knew  about  tunnels  and  in- 
clines, and  dips  and  spurs.  While  to  live  in  Forest 
Grove  was  a  brilliant  prospect  for  Millie.  She  could 
realize  the  one  ambitious  desire,  that  had  struggled 
into  her  brain,  to  take  music  lessons. 

But  Dr.  Welcome  called  towards  night,  and  dis- 
tressed them  all,  by  appointing  a  day  and  hour  when 
he  could  come  with  the  surgeon. 

Ellis  'went  out  to  inquire  particularly  of  him 
about  it. 

"Nothing  serious,  nothing  serious,"  said  Dr.  Wel- 
come. "Just  a  little  correction  I  have  to  make  to 
heal  up  the  open  wound.  The  bone  is  straight  now, 
and  the  leg  is  ready  to  heal  up.  I  am  afraid  of  fever, 
that  is  all." 

"Poor  little  chap,"  Ellis  said  to  Hulda,  who  met 
him  at  the  door.  "I  had  just  such  a  little  fellow 
once;  he  died  in  the  hospital  with  just  such  a  leg  as 
that.  Then  my  wife  died,  and  after  I  married  again 
I  took  to  drink.  She  wasn't  my  kind,  and  after  I 
took  to  drink,  I  wasn't  the  kind  for  any  woman,  .and 
I  don't  blame  her  for  putting  me  out,  If  you  want 


WILLIE  389 

anything  for  Willie,  don  t  be  afraid  to  call  on  me, 
Miss  Hardy." 

Then  when  he  went  up  town  that  evening,  he 
brought  down  a  box  of  white  aprons  and  nurse's 
caps.  Hulda  could  not  refuse  them,  so  she  smilingly 
pinned  a  dainty  affair  of  lace  and  puffs  on  the  top  of 
her  shapely  curls  and  coils  of  hair,  and  Millie  de- 
clared that  it  was  the  most  becoming  thing,  she  had 
ever  had  on  her  head. 

One  morning  when  Hulda  picked  up  the  paper  Ellis 
had  brought  her,  she  saw  that  Assemblyman  La 
Grange  Markham  had  gone  to  San  Jose  with  his 
mother.  For  a  moment  her  throat  choked  up,  above 
her  beating  heart.  There  was  Archie  What  a  vig- 
orous boyish  protest  he  would  make  because  she 
hadn't  come!  But  Dr.  Welcome  was  at  the  door 
with  the  surgeon,  and  she  dared  not  think  of  Archie 
or  any  one. 

Then  came  anxious  days.  The  fever  came.  Then 
a  touch  of  malarial  fever  threatened  to  burn  the  little 
life  away. 

The  "pitty  lady"  in  white  caps  took  all  the  care  of 
him  by  day  and  by  night,  except  when  she  allowed 
Buck  or  kind  John  Ellis  to  take  her  place  while  the 
child  slept. 

"But  for  you,"  Dr.  Welcome  had  said,  "the  case 
would  be  hopeless." 

"I  hate  to  see  you  getting  so  pale,"  said  Millie 
helplessly.  "When  he  is  safe  you  must  go  away." 

Then  he  grew  better,  gaining  with  bounds  as  chil- 
dren do. 


390  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

One  evening  John  Ellis  went  up  town  for  some 
needed  trifle  for  the  child.  Buck  and  Millie  slept, 
and  the  "pitty  lady,"  in  her  white  cap  and  long,  dark 
wrapper,  sat  in  a  chair  beside  the  crib.  The  child, 
as  it  slumbered,  held  to  a  hand  of  his  gentle  nurse; 
and  she  slept  lightly  too,  her  head  lying  back  on  the 
crimson  shawl  she  had  thrown  over  the  back  of  the 
low  rocker. 

Ellis  had  met  some  one  he  knew  on  the  street, 
and  had  company  with  him  when  he  came  back. 
A  young  man  who  seemed  to  have  some  complex 
design,  for  he  told  Ellis  that  he  knew  a  great 
deal  about  sick  children.  Ellis  finally  became  con- 
vinced of  his  competency,  and  was  willing  to  give  up 
his  watch  to  him;  he  was  more  than  willing,  because 
he  was  clumsy  enough  about  a  child,  and  besides,  he 
missed  his  sleep.  So  he  went  to  his  room  in  the 
same  block,  and  the  young  man  took  the  package 
that  had  been  sent  for,  and  went  into  the  house  just 
as  Ellis  might  have  done.  He  opened  the  second 
hall  door  and  came  into  the  dim  room,  where  it 
seemed  that  the  only  light  spot  in  it  was  the  white 
cap  of  the  nurse,  over  her  fair  face.  But  the  nurse 
slept  on,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  in- 
truder laid  his  hat  on  the  table,  and  sat  down.  He 
had  taken  desperate  chances,  but  he  was  growing  to 
be  a  desperate  man.  He  had  had  quite  enough  of 
this  wondering  why  Dacie  wouldn't  come  home,  and 
he  wanted  to  know  the  reason,  If  he  stood  in  the 
way  he  was  quite  ready  to  take  himself  out  of  the 
way.  Then  as  he  sat  looking  at  that  sweet,  still 


WILLIE  3QI 

face,  another  emotion  almost  overpowered  him,  and 
he  bent  his  head,  his  forehead  in  his  hands  as  one 
sometimes  does  for  retrospection. 

Then  the  nurse  wakened  and  came  to  the  table 
with  a  swift  movement. 

"Why,  Mr.  Ellis,  you  are  not  going  to  be  sad  to- 
night, are  you  ?"  she  said,  turning  up  the  light  of  the 
lamp. 

"Oh !"  she  stepped  back,  her  heart  throbbing  wildly, 
as  she  saw  that  head  thrown  up  in  the  old  defiant  way. 
Then  both  were  silent. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  San  Jose,"  she  said  after 
a  while. 

"I  was,  but  we  are  here  now,"  he  answered,  with 
the  most  patient  manner  of  humility. 

She  said  nothing,  but  stood  looking  at  her  hand  as 
her  fingers  rested  on  the  table. 

"I  came  to  offer  my  services,"  he  said  somewhat 
faintly.  "I  used  to  be  quite  a  child's  nurse." 

"I  need  no  help."     She  stole  a  little  look  at   him. 

"But  Mr.  Strong  writes  me  that  you  do.  He  says 
you  were  worn  out  when  he  left." 

She  threw  a  surprised  look  at  him.  He  was  taking 
advantage  to  mention  David's  name. 

"Besides,"  he  said,  throwing  off  his  mask,  "can't 
we  supply  your  place  here?  I  think  my  mother  frets 
a  great  deal  for  you.  I  am  wearing  out,  as  a  novelty, 
you  see." 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  murmured,  her  hand  trembling 
as  it  lay  on  the  table. 

"Why    sorry,  Miss    Hardy?     Come    back."      She 


392  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

stood  quite  still — then  after  a  moment  Willie  threw 
up  an  arm. 

"Pitty  lady." 

She  knelt  by  the  crib,  holding  the  little  hands. 
After  a  moment  she  looked  up  calm  and  strong  again. 

"Will  you  hand  me  that  glass  and  spoon?"  He 
brought  it,  and  she  gave  the  medicine,  and  handed 
back  the  glass  and  spoon  with  as  haughty  a  mannner, 
as  if  he  were  quite  unworthy  to  do  such  a  service. 
She  neither  looked  at  him  or  spoke,  until  the  child 
slept,  then  she  moved  around  the  table  to  the  window 
farther  from  the  child,  yet  nearer  to  him. 

"She  may  as  well  know  now,"  she  said,  speaking 
softly  and  firmly,  "that  I  am  not  going  back.  She 
doesn't  need  me  and  I  want  to  go  to  my  home.  You 
are  the  best  one  to  tell  her." 

"I  suppose,"  he  answered  bitterly,  "it  is  because 
I  am  there.  You  were  contented  enough  till  I  was 
to  come.  I  don't  blame  you,  I  am  unworthy  of 
your  society.  I  am  worthy  of  much  in  this  life,  but 
not  of  your  consideration;  but  I  shall  not  stay  to 
hinder  you.  I  shall  go  away,  myself— 

"I  trust  you  will  not  be  so  unkind  to  your  mother," 
she  interrupted,  hastily.  "Stay  with  her,  it  is  your 
duty.  Let  me  go  to  my  own  home  in  Hardup.  You 
don't  know  how  much  I  want  to  go  back,  now — now 
that  the  trouble  is  all  over." 

"I  understand  that,"  he  said,  gently  and  humbly. 
"I  am  glad  you  are  going." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  he  came  and  stood 
close  to  her;  he  might  have  touched  her,  had  he 
dared.  His  voice  trembled  slightly. 


WILLIE  393 

"I  wish  we  could  be  friends,"  he  said.  "You  decided 
long  ago  that  winter  day,  that  we  could  not  be  more. 
But  now  for  mother's  sake  we  ought  to  be  friends. 
I  don't  deserve  it,  God  knows.  I  listened  to  the 
Cornmans.  Can't  you  now,  for  mother's  sake,  for- 
give me?  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  to  love  me." 

He  waited  while  she  stood  motionless,  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  level 
of  his  hand  that  rested  on  the  window  sill.  She  re- 
membered that  hand,  how  it  had  held  hers  so  firmly 
and  kindly  that  night  so  long  ago  at  Forest  Grove. 
Then  her  heart  rose  in  rebellion  against  the  hard 
fate  that  had  been  hers.  After  all,  the  best  thing 
that  ever  came  to  her,  would  be  to  go  back  to  Hard- 
up,  and  be  free  and  clear-hearted  again  like  a  child. 
If  she  could  have  a  taste  of  her  girlhood  joyousness, 
as  when  she  rode  out  of  Hardup  to  go  and  apply  for 
the  Forest  Grove  school.  Here  he  was  asking  for 
her  friendship.  She  couldn't  be  a  friend  to  any  one, 
only  a  care-taker,  a  nurse,  a  helper.  If  she  could 
renew  her  heart  and  her  life  as  it  was  then,  perhaps 
she  might  be  a  friend.  But  why  should  she  show 
petulance  to  him?  Fate  had  been  unkind  to  them, 
that  was  all. 

Then  she  moved  away  and  went  to  the  other  side 
of  the  table.  She  offered  him  her  hand  in  a  gentle 
and  open  manner. 

"Yes,"  she  said  softly,  "we  ought  to  be  friends  for 
her  sake.  Tell  her  that  my  heart  is  in  my  own  home, 
and  that  I  am  going  there  now.  You  had  better  go. 
I  shall  not  need  help  to-night." 


394  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER   GULCH 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it,  looking  at  her  steadily. 

There  was  nothing  in  her  words  or  manner  that  in- 
dicated that  they  could  ever  be  more  than  friends. 
He  dropped  her  hand. 

"Good-night,"  she  said  again,  not  looking  at  him. 
Then  he  went  out,  as  quietly  as  he  had  come. 

John  Ellis  came  back,  and  as  Willie  still  slept,  she 
let  him  take  her  place.  She  went  to  her  room  and 
threw  herself  on  the  bed,  with  the  hand  that  he  had 
held  to  her  lips. 

A  few  days  after,  the  Markham  carriage  stopped 
at  the  gate,  and  Mrs.  Markham  sent  Donovan.  She 
wanted  Miss  Hardy  to  come  out,  she  wanted  to  see 
her.  Millie  came  to  the  door.  Miss  Hardy  had 
gone  to  Hardup  that  morning,  she  said. 

"And  the  sick  child,  is  it  better?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  mother,  "Willie  is  doing 
splendid." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

LILA. 

One  morning,  a  week  or  so  thereafter,  when  the 
elder  son  of  Mrs.  Markham  came  to  his  breakfast 
from  his  morning  correspondence,  he  found  his  mother 
in  a  state  of  evident  irritation. 

She  placed  the  silver  coffee  -urn  onto  its  stand  with 
an  emphatic  click. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said,  "I  don't  see  how  I  can  live 
without  Dacie." 

The  young  man  shook  out  his  napkin,  with  a 
thoughtful  air. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  "I  am  sorry  you  don't  make  me 
any  more  useful  than  you  do." 

"I  can't  always  tell,"  she  said.  "Now  Wong  says 
there  is  something  wrong  with  the  reservoir  in  the 
garret,  that  feeds  the  stove  boiler.  Now  if  Dacie  had 
been  here,  she  is  always  down  in  the  kitchen  a  half 
an  hour  before  breakfast,  and  would  have  attended 
to  it.  She  knows  how  to  fix  it.  She  always  goes 
up  there  herself.  I  might  as  well  send  a  stick,  as 
Satsuma." 

"Suppose  I  offer  my  humble  services,  mother." 

Mrs.  Markham  smiled. 

"I  suppose  it  must  be  either  you  or  Donovan  in  his 

395 


396  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

muddy  boots.  You  have  to  bring  a  step-ladder  in 
from  the  back  balcony,  and  get  up  a  trap  door  over 
the  hall." 

La  Grange  climbed  up  into  the  garret,  found  and 
remedied  the  little  matter,  and  was  about  to  swing 
himself  down  onto  the  step-ladder,  when  his  attention 
was  attracted  to  what  appeared  to  be  a  mounted 
canvas  loosely  wrapped  in  newspaper,  and  tied  with 
a  cord.  It  brought  to  his  mind  what  had  been  said 
about  the  lost  picture  on  the  night  of  his  memorable 
advent  there.  In  a  few  moments,  he  had  turned  the 
key  of  the  blue  room  upon  himself,  and  the  canvas  of 
"L1  Adieu." 

He  placed  it  in  the  light  and  stood  back  to  look  at 
it.  He  knew  it  all  at  once,  its  history  and  its  mean- 
ing. But  there  was  one  thing  there,  that  had  not 
had  a  presence  in  his  memory,  and  that  was  a  look 
of  tender  regret  on  the  girl's  face.  He  drew  his  chair 
where  he  could  see  it  best,  and  sat  down,  and  the 
present  faded  from  his  mind.  He  saw  himself  as  he 
had  been  then — ambitious  and  proud,  but  boyish  and 
self-willed,  with  a  boy's  reason  and  a  boy's  daring. 
That  was  but  a  child's  trick  to  try  to  help  her  by  al- 
tering her  credits,  and  it  had  brought  Cornman's 
judgment  upon  her, 

"I  was  not  worthy  of  winning  that  girl's  pure  heart 
then,"  he  said,  as  he  walked  the  floor,  "and  now  I  am 
not  able." 

"Oh,  Edward,  Edward!"  His  mother's  voice  had 
such  a  ring  of  trouble  in  it,  he  sprang  to  open  the 
door, 


LILA  397 

"Oh,  Edward,  isn't  this  dreadful,  dreadful!" 

Her  face  in  its  agony  had  lost  its  pretty  youthful 
look.  She  held  a  bit  of  paper  in  her  hand.  He 
quickly  encircled  her  with  his  arm. 

"Dacie  is  sick!  It's  all  my  fault!  I  shouldn't 
have  let  her  stay  away,  but  I  was  so  taken  up  with 
you." 

He  was  reading    the    telegram:  — 

"Miss  Hardy  is  very  sick.   Doctor  says  dangerous." 

"DAVID  STRONG." 

He  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and  clasped  his 
mother's  waist  convulsively.  She  looked  up  at  him. 

"Why,  Edward!" 

He  turned  away  from  her,  but  she  came  and  looked 
up  into  his  face  long  and  steadily. 

"Why,  Edward,  were  you  fond  of  her  too?" 

For  answer  he  kissed  her  brow,  and  went  and  sat 
on  the  lounge,  dropping  his  face  in  his  hands.  She 
stood  looking  at  him,  her  look  of  surprise  slowly 
changing  into  one  of  comprehension.  She  drew  a 
long  sigh. 

"Well,  well!" 

Then  casting  her  eyes  about  the  room  she  saw  the 
picture,  and  went  and  stood  before  it.  She  stood 
some  time  without  speaking. 

"Edward,  tell  me  where  you  got  this." 

"In  the  garret." 

She  looked  at  it  a-gain. 

"Why,  Edward,  that's  you." 

Then  she  went  and  sat  by  him,  taking  one  of  his 
iiands  in  hers. 


DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Now,  tell  me,  my  boy,  have  I  been  keeping  your 
sweetheart  all  this  time?  I  thought  it  was  strange 
she  would  not  accept  my  offers  of  reward." 

"No,  mother,  we  were  not  sweethearts,  but  we 
might  have  been." 

"You  quarreled?" 

"Yes." 
About  what?" 

He  gave  her  an  outline  of  his  acquaintance  with 
"her  Dacie."  What  a  luxury  to  tell  his  own  loving 
mother. 

"Now  tell  me,  "she  said,  "why  you  didn't  go  to  see 
her  after  you  came  here," 

"I  did,  mother." 

"What  did  you  say." 

"I  asked  her  to  forgive  me." 

"For  what?"  There  was  great  emphasis  in  her 
question.  He  smiled  faintly. 

"I  don't  know,  unless  it  was  for  taking  her  answer 
as  final.  May  be  for  believing  the  slander  about  her 
for  a  short  time.  But  what  could  I  do?  All  the 
evidence  was  against  her." 

Mrs.  Markham  frowned. 

"M'm,  well,  you  shouldn't  have  implied  that  there 
was  anything  to  forgive.  What  did  she  say  when 
you  asked  her  to  forgive  you  ?" 

"Nothing.      She  said  'good-night.'" 

"She  didn't  encourage  you  then." 

"Not  in  the  least,  mother." 

"I  admire  her  for  that,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  ris- 
ing. "I  understand  this  matter  better  than  you  do. 


LILA  399 

But  I  will  have  to  hurry,  if  I  get  the  afternoon  train. 
Are  you  going  with  me?" 

"Oh,  my  mother,  may  I?  I  will  stop  at  Forest 
Grove,  if  you  say  so.  There  is  a  telegraph  line  be- 
tween. Why  not  take  Dr.  Welcome  up?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  a  brighter  look. 

"That's  just  the  thing.  Go  and  see  him  right 
away." 

"And,  Edward,"  she  called,  leaning  over  the  bal- 
cony, "tell  Dr.  Welcome,  no  matter  about  his  work 
here,  or  his  fee,  he  must  go  anyway." 

What  Mrs.  Markham  understood  so  well  about  the 
matter  was  only  her  own  way  of  looking  at  it.  Dacie 
was  her  companion  still.  She  had  not  given  her  up. 
Dacie  had  promised  her  not  to  marry.  Dacie  was 
true,  that  was  all.  '  That  she  should  not  love  her  be- 
loved Edward,  that  was  incredible. 

The  three  rode  down  from  Forest  Grove  to  Hardup 
that  evening.  La  Grange  rode  outside  with  Hicks, 
but  Hicks  had  very  little  to  say. 

"What  was  the  news  about  Miss  Hardy?" 

"Nothing,  only  worse."  He  cracked  his  whip  vic- 
iously. Later  as  they  rattled  over  the  broad,  hard, 
divide  road,  La  Grange  heard  him  muttering  between 
his  teeth. 

"Fools,  blamed  fools,  every  one  of  them!"  Then 
he  said:  "Why,  I  brought  that  girl  down,  but  I  see 
she  was  too  worn  out  to  talk.  So  I  didn't  say  noth- 
ing to  her.  She  sat  right  where  you're  sittin',  all 
the  way  down,  and  all  she  said,  was,  ' Isn't  that  glo- 
rious, Hicks?  Seems  just  like  old  times,  don't  it?'" 


4OO  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

"I  'lowed  it  did,  and  let  her  alone.  But  Lord,  as 
soon  as  folks  heard  she'd  come,  they  just  piled  in  to 
see  her.  They  all  pretended  they'd  believed  in  her 
all  the  time.  Fools!  Then  they  all  asked  her  so 
many  questions  about  you,  and  your  new  mother,  till 
they  worried  her  all  out,  and  she  fainted  away  one 
night,  and  Strong  piled  the  hull  crowd  out  of  the 
house.  She  likes  them  all,  she's  a  lady,  but  they 
ought  to  come  on  to  her  gradual.  Who's  that  old 
duffer  inside?  Ha' n't  discovered  your  father,  have 
you?" 

"Oh,  no,  that's  a  celebrated  physician,  Dr.  Wel- 
come." 

"Guns!  Why  didn't  you  say  that  before?"  He 
took  a  swift  glance  at  his  brakes,  and  gathered  up  his 
lines.  "May  be  you  think  I  can't  drive."  La 
Grange  decidedly  thought  he  could.  He  held  on  with 
both  hands  and  saw  the  first  evening  stars  shoot 
right  and  left.  The  pines  were  swaying  in  a  west- 
ern breeze,  and  broken  clouds  of  spring  lay  on  the 
higher  ranges.  Patches  of  snow  lay  in  the  canon. 
But  it  was  a  fleeting  panorama;  soon  the  twinkling 
lights  of  Hardup  came  into  view.  The  graveyard, 
the  church,  the  parsonage,  the  young  pines;  and 
then  they  swung  around  several  straggling  blocks, 
and  the  panting  horses  were  reined  in  front  of  the 
low  brown  cottage. 

La  Grange  went  to  the  hotel  with  Hicks,  and  en- 
gaged rooms  for  himself  and  Dr.  Welcome;  then  he 
escaped  the  gathering  crowd  who  wished  to  see  their 
somewhat  distinguished  representative,  and  came  and 


LILA  401 

walked  in  the  grassy  lane    in   front    of   the    cottage. 
David  came  out  and  walked  with  him. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "in  her  clear  spells  she 
asks  for  your  mother,  and  we  thought  she  ought  lo 
come,  if  she  would.  Then  when  she's  bad  she  asks 
for  some  one  named  Lila.  We  don't  any  of  us  know 
who  Lila  is." 

La  Grange  knew,  and  he  resolved  she  should  have 
Lila,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  He  waited  and 
took  Dr.  Welcome  to  the  hotel. 

The  doctor  was  serious  in  manner,  but  communi- 
cative. 

"I'm  going  to  send  for  my  good  German  nurse," 
he  said.  "The  girl  likes  her,  I  know.  Your  mother 
mustn't  sit  up  nights,  and  I  don't  want  any  people 
that  Miss  Hardy  knows  around  her  bed." 

"Will  she  live?" 

"I'll  stay  by  her  a  few  days,"  answered  the  doctor, 
"but  she  is  a  highly  organized  girl,  high  blood.  I 
don't  know,  I  won't  know  for  a  week." 

La  Grange  Markham  went  to  Forest  Grove  in  the 
morning  and  talked  to  his  constituents,  and  began  on 
the  task  of  clearing  up  his  work  preparatory  to  mov- 
ing his  office  to  Sacramento.  But  every  morning 
Hicks  would  meet  a  solitary  horseman  on  the  divide, 
who  rode  up  to  the  stage  to  receive  the  written  mes- 
sage Mrs.  Maikham  would  send. 

In  a  few  days  Dr.  Welcome  passed  through,  and 
his  report  lightened  up  the  pale  face  of  the  eager 
questioner, 

A  week  later  he  received  a  letter  from  his  mother. 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch    26 


4-O2  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"She  is  better,"  it  ran.  "The  Strongs  are  going 
out  to  their  ranch.  I  am  going  to  stay.  I  like  it 
here,  and  if  you  will  come  down  I  can  see  more  of 
you  than  in  town.  Go  down  to  Sacramento,  and 
send  away  the  cook,  and  bring  Satsuma  up  here.  I 
am  going  to  keep  the  German  nurse.  She  can  cook 
very  well.  Have  Satsuma  close  the  rooms,  and  Don- 
ovan knows  all  about  taking  care  of  everything.  Tell 
Satsuma  to  bring  his  bed,  a  roll  of  Smyrna  rugs,  a 
few  china  cups  and  saucers,  half  a  dozen  silver 
spoons  and  forks,  and — " 

La  Grange  ran  to  catch  his  train  and  gave  the  list 
his  attention  going  down. 

So  it  happened  as  the  sick  girl  began  to  notice  the 
birds  singing  on  the  roof,  and  the  sounds  below  her 
in  the  rooms  that  she  became  used  to  the  voice  and 
step  of  La  Grange  in  the  house.  And  she  noted  it 
without  question.  Mrs.  Markham  had  control  of 
everything,  and  her  son  had  a  right  to  be  there.  Some 
days  he  would  be  gone  and  Mrs.  Markham  would  come 
up  and  remark  that  her  boy  had  gone  to  Forest 
Grove,  but  she  had  nothing  further  to  say  about  him. 

If  the  girl  was  always  awake  when  it  was  time  for 
the  old  stage  to  rumble  up  the  lane  in  the  evening, 
and  listened  with  a  brightened  look  on  her  face,  Mrs. 
Markham  seemed  not  to  be  aware  of  it. 

The  sunny  day  in  the  latter  part  of  April,  when 
the  nurse  first  put  her  in  a  rocker  at  her  window  in 
her  room,  was  bright  as  birds,  and  bees,  and  flowers, 
and  the  festivity  of  Spring  could  make  it.  * 

Over  the  brown  porch  roof  Hulda  could  see  a  strip 


LILA  403 

of  her  garden  with  the  rose  trees  arched  over  the 
gate,  a  mass  of  white  bloom.  She  saw  the  lane 
fringed  with  grass  and  flowers,  and  beyond,  the 
weather  worn  dwellings,  all  with  roses  clambering 
over  and  around  them,  and  bowered  in  fruit  trees. 
None  of  those  houses  had  changed  since  she  had  gone 
away.  The  people  seemed  a  trifle  older,  and  the 
children  had  grown,  that  was  all.  It  was  home,  and 
such  sweet  rest.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  when  she 
opened  them,  Mrs.  Markham  stood  before  her  with  a 
cluster  of  great,  heavy-headed  roses,  white,  and 
crimson  and  pink,  the  old-fashioned  roses  her  mother 
had  loved. 

She  took  them  with  a  grateful  glance  and  laid  them 
against  her  cheek. 

"Well,  now,  I'll  not  have  Edward  get  you  any 
more,  if  you  are  going  to  cry  over  them." 

The  girl  lowered  them  into  her  lap. 

"Oh,  Auntie,  forgive  me,  my  mother's  roses!" 

Then  it  seemed  but  a  few  days,  till  she  came  down 
stairs  dressed  in  a  long,  trailing,  cream-colored  wrap- 
per, with  a  cloudy  pink  scarf  about  her  shoulders. 
She  wanted  to  sit  in  the  kitchen  door  in  the  morning 
sun,  and  that  was  where  Satsuma  took  her  rocker. 
Mrs.  Markham  sat  in  her  chair  outside,  and  Satsuma 
hovered  around,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

It  seemed  but  incidental  that  Mrs.  Markham 's  son 
should  come  by.  He  had  a  spade  in  his  hand. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  in  the  most  ordinary  way,  "glad  to 
see  you  down."  Then  he  sat  on  the  step  facing  his 
mother.  "Well,  now,  Miss  Hardy,"  he  said  after  a 


404  DAVID    OF   JUNIPER    GULCH 

moment,  "tell  us  how  you  like  our  housekeeping, 
Haven't  we  done  well?  I've  nailed  on,  I  don't  know 
how  many  pickets,  and  spaded  the  garden  and  pruned 
your  roses,  and  now  I'm  thinking  of  plowing  the  or- 
chard." 

"Do  you  call  that  housekeeping?"  said  his  mother, 
and  Hulda  smiled,  the  pink  creeping  over  her  cheeks. 

''David  said  he  would  have  it  plowed,"  she  said 
quietly. 

"Then  I  think  I  will  build  a  barn,"  La  Grange 
continued. 

"A  barn!"  cried  both  women. 

"Yes,  I  want  a  saddle  horse.  The  stage  starts  too 
early  forme." 

"You're  talking  nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Markham. 
"Now  go  off  to  your  spading." 

He  understood  that  to  be  orders  to  go,  and  he 
went.  Later  he  came  in  with  a  bunch  of  wild  flowers 
and  laid  them  in  Hulda's  lap  as  he  went  by,  and  with 
this  manner  of  easy  nonchalance  and  pleasant  insist- 
ence, he  came  into  the  girl's  life  again,  and  their  ac- 
quaintance seemed  to  begin  just  where  it  had  really 
ended  on  their  last  meeting  in  Cherry  Valley. 

Then  life  in  the  little  Hardup  home  went  on  like 
a  dream.  Hulda  gained  strength  among  her  roses, 
or  walking  around  the  village  talking  to  her  old 
friends.  Some  days  La  Grange  would  be  away, 
some  days  he  would  have  the  dining-room  table  lit- 
tered with  his  correspondence,  or  he  would  read  to 
the  two  women,  on  the  porch  under  the  roses.  They 
liked  to  have  him  read  the  editorials  in  the  papers, 
and  tell  them  why  they  had  been  written. 


LILA  405 

Mrs.  Markham  and  her  son  spoke  of  returning  to 
Sacramento,  when  he  would  be  ready  to  open  his  law 
office  there,  but  nothing  was  said  to  Hulda  about  her 
returning  with  them,  and  she  was  glad.  It  would  be 
a  lonely  day  the  day  that  they  should  go,  but  she 
could  see  her  way  clear  as  to  her  future  life  in  Hardup. 

One  warm  day  she  went  out  among  her  beloved 
pines,  and  beyond  in  an  open  place,  where  the  pop- 
pies grew  flaming  in  a  perfumed  sheet  over  the  field. 
She  wore  a  soft  white  dress,  and  when  she  came  back 
the  poppies  were  fastened  at  her  belt  and  throat,  and 
lying  in  her  arms. 

She  came  musing  leisurely  around  to  the  front  of 
her  house  scattering  poppies  as  she  walked.  Then 
she  suddenly  dropped  them  all  in  a  golden  mass,  and 
ran  through  the  rose  avenue  to  the  front  gate.  Had 
Mrs.  Woods  come? 

There  was  Lila  tied  to  the  post,  her  nose  in  the 
grass,  and  just  as  she  used  to  be,  but  for  the  new 
saddle  and  bridle  upon  her.  A  card  hung  from  the 
horse,  and  the  wondering  girl  took  it  in  her  hand. 
"To  you,  Dacie,  from  Mrs.  Markham  and  her  son." 

The  girl  slipped  her  arms  around  the  pony's  neck, 
and  rested  her  head  upon  her.  A  long  time  she  stood 
there,  with  a  throbbing  heart.  Then  taking  the  card, 
she  went  in  and  found  Mrs.  Markham. 

"Auntie,  I  can't  accept  such  a  present."  Mrs. 
Markham  looked  up  from  her  book. 

"I  can't  help  it,  Edward  bought  her." 

"Then  you  can  give  it  to  Archie."  Mrs.  Markham 
caught  the  girl's  dress  and  drew  her  down  to  her. 


406  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

"Dacie,  didn't  you  find  us  for  each  other?" 

"Yes,  but  I  can't  accept  pay  for  it,  neither  will  I 
allow  you  to  pay  Dr.  Welcome  and  the  nurse." 

"Oh,  that  isn't  it,  Dacie,  we  love  you  for  it." 

"I  know  you  do,  Auntie,"  murmured  the  girl,  "but 
your  son  has  no  right  to  give  me  presents,  and  I  must 
not  accept  them." 

"Well,  then  you  must  talk  to  him  about  it.  You 
never  object  when  Archie  gives  you  things.  There, 
you've  got  a  lace  handkerchief  in  your  pocket  now 
that  Archie  sent  last  week." 

The  girl  hid  her  face  in  the  elder  woman's  lap.  It 
was  rosy  with  blushes.  Mrs.  Markham  waited  a 
while,  then,  in  pity  she  lifted  the  face  and  kissed  the 
white  brow. 

"Go  now,  don't  trouble  me  about  it.  Go  and  have 
a  ride,  and  if  you  want,  I  will  buy  the  horse  from 
Edward  and  give  it  to  Archie." 

The  girl  was  glad  to  go  away  with  her  blushes. 
She  ran  to  her  room  and  looked  at  Lila  from  her  win- 
dow. The  temptation  was  too  great.  She  opened 
her  old  trunk  and  took  out  her  old  habit  and  the  rid- 
ing cap,  that  she  had  worn  on  that  fatal  snowy  ride 
from  Forest  Grove.  She  had  to  change  her  coils  of 
hair,  and  the  cap  would  not  cover  all  her  curls.  She 
found  a  bit  of  thin  veiling  to  tie  them  down.  She 
came  down  the  stairs  so  softly  that  Mrs  Markham 
did  not  hear,  and  Satsuma,  reading  in  the  garden, 
only  saw  her  as  she  rode  away.  Another  rider  came 
up  shortly  after. 

"Which  way  did  she  go,  Satsuma?" 


LILA  407 

Satsuma  pointed  out  past  the  schoolhouse.  The 
second  rider  went  on;  there  was  but  one  road  that 
way.  Later  he  rode  down  a  slope  and  came  to  a 
broad,  running  stream  with  shallow  water  rippling 
over  the  pebbles.  Lila  and  her  rider  were  down  the 
stream  a  ways.  She  had  ridden  down  the  bank  and 
was  pulling  ferns  from  over  her  head.  The  horseman 
came  through  the  ripples  to  her,  but  he  saw  that  he 
was  observed. 

"May  I  not  get  them  for  you?"  he  asked,  reining 
his  horse  close  to  her. 

She  turned  Lila's  head  and  her  own,  away.  "You 
are  very  kind,  Mr.  Markham." 

He  rode  in  between  her  and  the  bank  and  began  to 
reach  for  the  objects  of  her  desire.  He  only  pulled 
one  at  a  time,  however,  and  troubled  her  to  take 
them  severally.  But  the  third  one  was  not  a  fern, 
and  she  threw  it  away. 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed,  "how  can  you  expect  me  to 
know  a  fern  from  a  brake  ?  Tell  me  how  you  like 
Lila." 

"It's  gloroius  to  be  on  her  again,"  she  said  drop- 
ping her  eyes,  "but  I  can't  accept  her  from  you.  I 
will  buy  her  of  you." 

"Very  well,"  answered  La  Grange,  with  his  old 
coolness.  "I  think  we  can  easily  make  terms.  I 
have  something  that  belongs  to  you,  that  I  will  take 
in  exchange."  She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "Only 
it  is  not  an  equal  exchange.  There  will  be  about 
three  hundred  dollars  coming  to  you.  Let  me  see. 
Lila  and  her  saddle  are  worth  about  one  hundred  dol- 


408  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH 

lars,  and  the  picture  I  want  is  worth  at  least  four 
hundred.  I  have  it  in  my  room  at  Sacramento.  It 
is  called  'L'  Adieu.'"  He  reached  and  caught  her 
hand.  "God  bless  you  for  painting  that  picture, 
Dacie.  When  I  saw  it  I  knew  that  at  some  time  you 
cared  for  me." 

Her  face  was  turned  away,  but  he  did  not  release 
her  hand.  "May  I  have  the  picture?" 

Her  head  was  so  bowed  that  he  just  caught  the 
words.  "No,  I  can't  sell  the  picture." 

"Give  it  to  me  then." 

"No,  I  cannot  do  that." 

He  dropped  her  hand  and  then  guided  his  horse  .out. 

"Were  you  going  up  to  Strong's?" 

"I  was  going  that  way,"  she  said. 

"Very  well,  perhaps  I  may  go  too." 

She  turned  to  him  with  flashing  eyes  as  they  rode 
up  out  of  the  stream. 

"You  had  no  right  to  take  that  canvas  out  of  the 
garret.  How  did  you  know  it  was  there  ?" 

He  rallied  bravely  to  his  own  defense. 

"I  had  to  fix  reservoirs  in  your  absence.  I  found 
it  accidentally.  Why  didn't  you  stay  and  protect  it  ?" 

She  made  no  reply,   and  they  went  on. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said  bitterly,  cracking  his  whip 
viciously  in  the  air,  "that  you  will  always  look  upon 
me  as  a  man  who  alters  credits  and  tells  lies.  My 
case  is  quite  hopeless,  I  know  that." 

"But  oh,  Mr.  Markham,  I  didn't  say  that,"  she 
cried,  turning  for  one  moment  her  shining  eyes  to 
him.  His  face  changed.  He  lowered  his  whip,  and 
came  closer  to  her. 


Oh,  Edward,  I  have  loved  you  always,  always." 

David  of  Juniper  Gulch 


LILA  409 

"Then,  dear  girl,  why  don't  you  let  me  tell  you 
how  I  love  you.  Don't  I  actually  deserve  you  more 
than  mother  does?" 

She  let  him  take  her  hand  while  she  glanced  up 
archly. 

"And  why,  sir?" 

"A  prior  claim — an  attachment,  and  an  old  one, 
too."  He  took  hope  when  he  saw  her  sudden  blushes. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  wheeling  the  horses  about,  "we 
are  not  going  up  to  Strongs.  I  am  going  to  serve 
that  attachment,  or  I  am  no  lawyer." 

But  she  had  recovered  her  presence  of  mind,  and 
the  serving  of  the  attachment  was  not  so  easy,  al- 
though he  pleaded  his  case  eloquently. 

Kind  dusk  had  fallen  when  they  reached  the  house. 
But  when  he  took  her  from  the  saddle,  he  imprisoned 
her  head  against  his  shoulder,  and  kissed  her  cheek 
and  lips. 

"Oh,  Edward,  I  have  loved  you   always,  always." 

"Darling,"  he  said  looking  into  her  eyes,  "now  we 
can  talk  over  those  dear  old  days.  I  once  thought  I 
would  have  no  time  for  love  making,  now,  dearest,  I 
shall  have  no  time  for  anything  else." 

Mrs.  Markham  met  them  at  the  door. 

"It's  all  right,  mother,"  he  said,  "I've  traded  the 
horse  for  a  picture." 

"Oh,  you  silly  children,"  she  exclaimed,  drawing 
Hulda  from  his  embracing  arm  into  the  house.  "Go 
put  those  horses  up,  Edward,  tea  is  waiting."  Then 
she  embraced  the  girl  and  kissed  her  lovingly.  "Now 
my  happiness  is  complete,"  she  said. 


4-IO  DAVID    OF    JUNIPER    GULCH      . 

But  there  was  not  much  eaten  at  that  tea.  La 
Grange  sat  idling  with  his  fork,  and  looking  at  the 
girl  in  a  creamy  white  dress,  a  mass  of  poppies  on 
her  breast,  whose  soul  shone  in  her  face  now,  and 
whose  eyes  were  lifted  with  the  old  bright  frankness, 
as  in  the  Cherry  Valley  days, 

Mrs.  Markham  reclined  in  her  rocker,  holding  and 
petting  "her  Dacie's"  hand.  Not  on  that  first  deliri- 
ously happy  evening,  or  at  any  other  time,  was  she 
jealous  of  the  young  people's  abstraction  in  each 
other.  She  let  them  take  horse  back  rides  and  talk 
interminably  in  the  moonlight  in  the  rose  garden. 

But  after  a  week  or  so  she  insisted  upon  a  hearing. 
Things  could  not  always  go  on  that  way.  There 
were  arrangements  to  be  made. 

But  Hulda  had  already  decided  on  one  thing;  that 
she  would  remain  for  the  present  in  the  home  of  her 
childhood,  and  be  married  in  the  Hardup  church,  sur- 
rounded by  the  people  who  had  known  and  loved  her 
mother. 

"Then  I  set  the  time  for  the  middle  of  June,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham,  decidedly,  "so  that  Archie  and  all  of 
us  can  go  to  Monterey." 

This  decided  upon,  Mrs.  Markham  and  her  son 
went  on  their  long-deferred  trip  to  Rocky  Divide. 
Mrs.  La  Grange  and  her  children,  the  eldest,  a  sturdy 
boy  of  sixteen,  were  brought  down  from  the  Divide  by 
them,  and  settled  hi  Forest  Grove,  where  the  school 
facilities  were  good.  Mrs.  Markham  felt  that  she 
owed  the  children  something  for  having  taken  away 
their  foster  brother.  Her  obligations  were  fulfilled  as 


LILA  411 

much  as  John  Ellis  would  allow,  for  after  a  year  or 
so  he  married  the  widow  and  took  the  six  children  to 
his  paternal  heart. 

Hulda,  at  Hardup,  kept  the  German  woman,  took 
in  a  village  girl  as  companion,  and  lived  till  her  wed- 
ding day  in  the  now  doubly  precious  nome  of  her 
childhood.  But  she  had  a  studio  added  to  the  cot- 
tage and  allowed  David  to  enlarge  the  orchard.  She 
had  decided  to  keep  the  old  place  for  a  summer  home 
and  rest  resort,  whenever  they  might  wish  to  come 
to  it. 

Mrs.  Cornman  came  down  from  Forest  Grove  with 
Hicks  one  night.  Hulda  took  her  in  graciously  and 
forgivingly.  She  staid  a  week,  then  seemed  loath  to 
go  away.  In  one  of  Hulda's  daily  letters  to  her 
lover,  she  said:  "There  is  no  use  for  me  to  try  to 
harbor  resentment  against  any  one,  I  can't  do  it,  es- 
pecially in  these  happy  days." 

La  Grange  smiled  over  this,  and  then  laughed 
heartily  over  one  he  had  received  from  David  Strong, 
in  which  he  told  of  a  little  fun  they  had  been  having 
in  Forest  Grove.  It  seems  that  Hicks  had  been  get- 
ting drunk.  In  this  irresponsible  condition  he  had 
met  Joseph  Cornman,  arrayed  in  a  spotless  linen  dus- 
ter, and  incidentally  or  accidentally,  the  tipsy  man 
had  fallen  against  the  "dictionary  old  maid,"  and 
rolled  him  into  a  mud  hole  that  existed  perpetually 
by  a  saloon  watering  trough.  As  this  was  the  only 
spree  Hicks  had  ever  been  known  to  indulge  in,  peo- 
ple wondered,  and  David,  any  way,  saw  the  point. 

So  much  fun,  however,  was  made  of  the  unfortu- 


412  DAVID    OF   JUNIPfcR    GULCH 

nate  pedagogue,  that  he  was  glad  to  remove  from 
town,  and  when  he  ran  for  the  County  Suprintend- 
ency,  he  was  surprised  to  note  that  the  saloon  element 
had  defeated  him. 

Despite  Hulda's  protest  Mrs.  Markham  continued 
to  amuse  herself  planning  and  ordering  dresses  for 
her  ward's  trousseau.  Hulda  had  to  submit  gra- 
ciously, and  take  little  trips  down  to  Sacramento  to 
have  them  fitted.  She  knew  they  would  be  appropri- 
ate in  the  hospitable  home  she  would  keep  with  the 
dear  new  mother  in  the  old  Markham  mansion. 

But  the  wedding  dress  itself  was  purchased  and 
made  in  Hardup,  and  the  Hardup  women  were  happy. 
The  dress  was  of  fine  white  tulle,  flowing  in  long 
draperies,  and  trailing  as  the  fond  Hardup  women 
would  have  it,  a  yard  or  more  on  the  ground.  But 
it  was  finally  trimmed  at  the  last  moment,  with  the 
orange  blossoms  that  Archie  sent  by  express,  and  Cis 
hung  around  the  bride  a  rich  shimmering  veil,  that 
could  not  be  refused  from  David.  The  bride  walked 
through  the  pines  to  the  church  on  David's  arm,  Cis 
and  Millie  followed,  laughter  and  merriment  mingled 
with  their  decorum. 

The  old  church  bell  hanging  on  its  time-blackened 
frame  by  the  church-yard  gate,  filled  the  air  with  its 
sweet  and  mellow  tones,  and  all  Hardup,  seemingly, 
was  crowded  into  the  new  church. 

Late  arrivals  from  Cherry  Valley  waited  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  bride,  and  Hicks  drove  up  with  a 
crowd  from  Forest  Grove,  for  the  public  wedding  of 
so  popular  a  man  was  a  drawing  attraction. 


LILA  413 

Archie  as  best  man,  and  demure  little  Lucy  Wel- 
come as  bride' s-maid  conducted  the  bride  and  David 
down  the  aisle  to  the  altar,  where  Mrs.  Markham  in 
shimmering  silk  waited  with  her  son. 

The  simple  Methodist  ceremony  followed,  and  the 
gentle,  great-hearted  girl,  whose  soul  was  clear  as 
light,  and  whose  hand  had  never  refused  aid  or  corn- 
fort  to  any  who  suffered  or  needed  her,  placed  her 
life  in  her  lover's  keeping,  and  knew  that  it  would  be 
blessed  with  every  gracious  gift  of  his  love,  and  the 
bounties  of  his  noble  hand. 

"And  what  God  has  joined  together,  no  man  is 
able  to  put  asunder,"  said  the  good  pastor,  as  he 
gave  them  his  blessing,  and  many  there  with  moist- 
ened eyes,  said  "Amen." 


THE  END. 


*VADE  MECUM* 

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